


mcyt-ober

by soaring_lyrebird



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Brave (2012) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe - Volleyball, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crack Treated Seriously, Dimension Travel, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Horror, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Second Person, T-Schlatt, Temporary Amnesia, Tubbo is Not Having a Good Time, chatfic, half of these are angst and the other half are weirdly specific au's, i know what this looks like i swear to god i dont watch haikyuu, insomnia pog, jk its not pog at a l l, more tags to come as there are more prompts filled lol, realistic minecraft au, theres no in between, ventfic, wilbur blows up the place in search of release from the pressure of being a creator, yes i wrote a universe swap fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 24,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26759626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soaring_lyrebird/pseuds/soaring_lyrebird
Summary: The fated 32nd chapter has now been posted! :] Thank you so much for this journey <3--Some of my favorite prompt fills:1-31: 'short summaries' in chapter titles5: tubbo fluff+angst fantasy au10+11: pogtopia s/o/l volleyball au19: schlatt+ghost!tubbo horror21: tommy+tubbo(+wilbur) deity au + war au23: tommy light angst universe swap au25: skephalo swordfighting medieval/fantasy au27: wilbur blowing up lmanburg character study30: tommy and tubbo in an argument31: tommy watching the sunrise
Relationships: Darryl Noveschosch & TommyInnit, Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 271
Kudos: 1377





	1. skephalo soulmate au // Only half a heart left.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [All of my MCYT art/writing prompts!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26731606) by [despairing_rage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/despairing_rage/pseuds/despairing_rage). 



> Thanks to despairing_rage for making this prompt list!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Bad was little, his grandmother gave him a necklace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no tw's for this chapter

When Bad was little, his grandmother gave him a necklace, a small glass vial full of clear liquid. She said it connected to his heart, and when he met his ‘soulmate’, they would have matching necklaces. 

Bad, being a kid, believed her.

* * *

He didn’t question when the heart-shaped vial began to turn murky. As the kids in his year bullied him, it started having swirls of gray and red. The vial turned fully translucent when he reached middle school, shattering in a fight behind the school walls. 

His grandmother had passed by then. He walked around school for three weeks with only half a heart, like a puppet without strings, and no life behind his eyes. When he got a new vial, he made sure it was sturdier, with a metal cage surrounding the delicate glass. 

Bad never wore it to school again, taking it off each morning before opening the door, ignoring the whimpers of his heart.

The next time he wore it to school was when he graduated, and this small, flat vial against his chest was still gray and translucent. It matched his graduation gown, the gray and black, but he didn’t have any friends to show it to. 

* * *

He meets Skeppy through his server, they work as staff together and grow closer over the next two years. Bad’s vial grows clearer, gray spots dotting it instead of sludge.

When they first video call, Bad’s attention is immediately drawn to a necklace hanging low around Skeppy’s neck. It’s gray and a little murky too, but when Skeppy laughs Bad sees little lights inside it, blue sparkles catching the light. Bad barely notices his grow clearer too, the gray receding to bring something new in. 

When he streams with a face-cam, he tucks the necklace under layers of sweaters and sweatshirts, hoping no-one would question its absence. Skeppy makes some joke about it, but Bad is too reminded of his bullies to laugh it off. Noticing Bad’s expression, he stills, and Bad hears some rustle of clothing through the speaker. He doesn’t ask. 

Bad doesn’t show his vial on camera to Skeppy after that, the vial’s swirls have started to become more blue than gray. Skeppy keeps his hidden as well, and every time Bad hears him laugh, he still imagines those blue pieces of glitter.

He doesn’t ask Skeppy about it, either.

* * *

When they finally meet up, they stand back-to-back. Bad ends up slightly taller than Skeppy, ignoring the shorter's man fluffy hair. They get Taco Bell together, and laugh and talk in the parking lot. 

Despite what the forecast said, both of them find their sweatshirts too hot for the afternoon sun. Skeppy takes off a layer, his vial catching and slipping out into view. Bad watches as the blue and pink move around before Skeppy catches him staring, and shoves it back into his shirt.

Bad slowly takes out his own vial, a mix of gray and teal. Skeppy also stares a little, and they watch as the sunlight reveals small pieces of glitter shining through. Skeppy slowly gets out his own, and they compare the colors and swirls. 

And although Skeppy’s royal blue is a different shade from Bad’s teal, they both look at their vials and  _ know. _ For a moment, their hearts beat and flutter to the same rhythm, their vials swirling as if blown by the same wind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> took around 1.5 hours


	2. wilbur+tommy fluff // Brisk morning air.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I miss him, Wilbur.” Tommy shuffled a little closer, leaning his head on Wilbur’s shoulder.
> 
> “I know.”
> 
> “I wonder what they’re doing,” he said, staring at the fading stars. “Without us.”
> 
> \--
> 
> Tommy watching the sunrise with Wilbur, and the morning after.

Tommy sat with his back against a tree, crumbs of bread littering the ground.

“You know, we’ll have to go back eventually,” Wilbur said, taking out some bread from his satchel.

Tommy’s gaze stayed fixated on the horizon, watching the moon dip below it. Wilbur ate with him in silence.

Tommy watched as a bee fluttered in the distance, its silhouette fading as the sun began shining from behind. He closed his eyes at the reminder of what he’d lost.

“I miss him, Wilbur.” Tommy shuffled a little closer, leaning his head on Wilbur’s shoulder.

“I know.”

“I wonder what they’re doing,” he said, staring at the fading stars. “Without us.”

“I bet it’s a lot quieter.”

“More boring, you mean.”

The two sat in silence as the moon’s last slivers disappeared from view, the sea and sky melting into each other. Tommy had missed this, and his shoulders dropped in relief as he let his mind wander. His eyes closed as the sky turned dark, Wilbur hugging him gently with his arm.

The sky began to turn orange, the sunrise painting it with light. Wilbur felt the soft warmth on his back, like that of an old friend, and glanced by his side. Tommy’s head was turned down and his breaths deepened. 

“When’s the last time you slept?” Wilbur murmured, looking down in awe. Both of them had been working without end after their banishment.

Tommy shushed him and tugged Wilbur’s arm tighter around him. “Doesn’t matter,” he whispered back, curling into the other man’s side.

The two stayed still as the sun rose behind them.

\--

Tommy woke up on soft sheets and uncurled his fists from the red blanket. Sunlight through the door revealing small cracks in the stone beneath him, his eyes quickly adjusting to the light. Downstairs, he heard Wilbur moved about.

He got up sluggishly, feeling his hair cling to the pillowcase in static. If he hadn’t left his mirror back home, he would’ve been able to see fully how akin to a poorly kept porcupine his hair was.

Quickly strapping up his boots, he headed outside into the cool morning air. The fog in the distance shrouded the sun, making the morning feel ethereal with its soft and muted light. Wind rustled the grass and leaves, the gentle breeze making Tommy feel all the more alive. 

He heard someone coming up behind him, letting down his guard as Wilbur came into view, and walked past him.

“Missed me?” He asked with a smirk, running to catch up.

Wilbur looked back and laughed. “Nice hair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, about to overuse the words 'soft' and 'slowly': pog
> 
> hope y'all enjoyed!! this was ~one hour of work writing, editing, and uploading
> 
> yes the mental image of wilbur carrying tommy into bed is adorable but also: ljksadffsdjkl tommy's a grown-ass dude like he must be h e a v y to pick up


	3. amnesiac!tommy+sbi angst // Empty handed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time, our narrator realized he did not know his own name, nor how he came to be, nor anyone of any importance to him. And he felt numb, and afraid, and instantly distrustful of the man in front of him. 

He woke up on white sheets and a propped bed, feeling a kinship to the blank walls. As he took note of his surroundings, his head filled with questions about who he was and how he got here. 

“I’m glad you’re awake,” a man in a white coat said. He paused, checking his clipboard again. “You were found by family members from the nearby woods, and suffered from some minor blood loss and bruises.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“It isn’t, and on its own you wouldn’t have been found unconscious. Minor slashes around your arms and legs suggest a damage potion was at play, and soot around your ankles suggests a creeper exploded at some point.”

“Can you get to the point, please?” He said, confusion and impatience laced in his tone. 

“Sir, you appear to be suffering from a witch’s curse,” the presumable nurse said, wearing a white coat and a name tag. “We’re unsure of the effects, and you are under our care until we sort this mess out. Your family will be visiting you shortly. Can you tell me what you remember?”

For the first time, our narrator realized he did not know his own name, nor how he came to be, nor anyone of any importance to him. And he felt numb, and afraid, and instantly distrustful of the man in front of him. 

He went through the motions, telling the nurse that  _ yes, he didn’t know how he got here, _ and  _ no, he didn’t know anyone he could call. _ He shrugged when asked about his name, but recalled his home address with ease. 

The nurse concluded he must be suffering from amnesia, and released him to go home. If he saw some familiar faces, maybe his memory would return.

* * *

A tall, slender man greeted him as he walked out of the hospital doors. The man rushed up to him in excitement, squishing him under a hug and sighing with relief. 

“I’m really glad you’re okay, you little shit.” He said, his face falling as the boy’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Everything’s fine, right?” 

He glanced down, not looking up at the man. “I don’t remember you.”

“Oh.” His gut swirled as the other man’s face fell, disappointment shooting through all his features. And as quickly as it came, it left, and the taller man instead looked down with a small, probably ingenuine, smile.

“The doctor said something about a witch and a curse. Don’t worry, I don’t really know what’s going on either,” he said bitterly, kicking the ground in front of him.

The man introduced himself as Wilbur, explaining that his name was Tommy. Tommy smiled at that. It seemed familiar enough, like a jacket that fitted just right. 

Tommy continued to ask questions about his life to Wilbur as they walked, and by the time they reached the house, Tommy had felt excited. He was excited to meet these people who considered him a brother, and even more so at the prospect of potentially remembering his life in its entirety.

* * *

Walking through the door, Tommy felt another pair of eyes on him.

A man in a pig mask stared at him, setting down a sword and walking over. While Wilbur explained the situation, Tommy instead did a once-over of the man in front of him, getting increasingly confused at the royal clothing and pig-themed heels.

“You didn’t tell me I had a furry as an older brother!” 

Wilbur cackled at that, and Tommy joined him, then went quiet as the other two began looking at him strangely. He felt his voice die out with a pathetic ‘ha’, before closing his mouth and averting his eyes. He got weird looks for  _ that _ too, and instead hurried upstairs to his room.

His room, which he somehow remembered. His legs knew where to take him and he, without looking, was able to fall onto a pile of stuffed animals on red bedsheets. He even glanced at a couple and found himself already knowing their names, recounting how he came to have them. He found it strange, and exhilarating.

Tommy stared at a red elephant he had named ‘Waldo’, remembering that someone had given it to him, but not recalling a face or name. He watched as the lifeless eyes reflected the lamplight in his direction. 

* * *

When he re-emerged for dinner, he walked down holding the stuffed elephant in his arms. Techno laughed upon his entrance, and once again when Tommy’s face scrunched his confusion. “I haven’t seen you hold a stuffed animal since you were eight,” Techno replied, laughing as though there’s an inside joke he’s missed out on.

“Well, this is Waldo. I remember that much,” he replied tonelessly, smiling as Techno instantly stoped laughing. Tommy relished in the silence again, as Techno stood for a few moments with his mouth open, saying nothing.

“Maybe,” Techno said, Tommy looking back up in surprise. “Maybe you remember  _ some _ things, just not us.”

* * *

Wilbur slotted the music disc into the jukebox, and Tommy’s breath hitched.

The melody was jumbled and distorted for the first moments, and Tommy was transported back to a sunny field, watching a brown-haired boy make flower crowns. And he felt the singe of a campfire, the taste of marshmallows and chocolate on his tongue.

He heard his friends’ voices, not as strangers, but as brothers, and he stared in new-found awe as they whispered reassurances over a scraped knee. He heard the backing track fade into the background, and he remembered sitting on a satin cushion by a fireplace and the smell of paper and ink.

When ‘Cat’ finished, Tommy’s face relaxed and was at ease, and he looked with relief as his memories of the people standing in front of him came back. When he slowly opened his arms for a hug, he watched as Wilbur and Techno take it with ease, and he asked to hear it again. “I like it, I think.”

Wilbur put the disc back in without question, and Tommy smiled wider as more and more snippets of a past life came rushing back into his brain. The simple melody toward the end made him feel calm, and he remembered the unwavering happiness he felt whenever he was around his favorite people.

“You were the one who gave me this disc, weren’t you?”

Wilbur stayed quiet for a moment before smiling. “Yeah,” he said, “but it was a gift from all of us.”

“I’m kind of glad Tubbo didn’t have to put up with this.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he’d mind missing out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> empty handed more like empty headed- 
> 
> tommy: head empty, no thots
> 
> took around 2 hours to write, edit, and publish, but around two days to do just bc. ajsdkldjklaskj it took a while
> 
> if you see me not publish tomorrow, it's bc of this lol. and even if i do, this kind of word count is a one-time thing
> 
> edit: i had to re-upload this since i made the template for this yesterday and ao3 didn't recognize this was uploaded today fkalsjdsjkl


	4. skephalo superhero au // Snow in September.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you ever think about what we’re doing, Bad?” Skeppy almost whispered, eyes fixated on the floor in front of him. “Like, are we doing the right thing?”
> 
> “I mean, I am the _bad_ guy, I don’t know what you want me to say.”
> 
> Skeppy was silent for a moment. “You get paid to blow up buildings and then I get money pretending to fix them.” He scowled. “Isn’t that suspicious at _all_ to you?”

Bad sighed in relief as he walked through the prison doors, his handcuffs coming undone as he slid his cape off. He changed out of his supervillain costume and into civilian clothes, chatting with his co-worker as he went.

“Great work today, Skeppy!” Bad said with a smile, giving the man a side-hug. “If you keep those fighting skills up, maybe they’ll promote us to city-wide threats!”

“Sure,” Skeppy haft-heartedly replied, eyes fixated on the floor in front of him.

“Maybe one day I’ll get to shut down the nuclear reactor! Or turn off the water supply!”

“Uh-huh.”

“I wonder if we’ll get more night shifts, it’s always fun to dramatically come out of the shadows,” Bad said, quietly picking up his bag, and began walking around the complex with Skeppy.

Unfortunately, the exit doors were on the other side of the building, but Bad didn’t mind. He got to talk with Skeppy, after all. 

As they walked up some stairs, Bad had to catch the other man from falling three times. “Dang it, Skeppy, when’s the last time you slept?”

“Four,” Skeppy said, dragging out the ‘r’. “AM. Last night.”

“You’ve been awake for  _ twenty  _ hours straight? Skeppy! We talked about this, you have to take care of yourself!” Bad exclaimed, moving his arms around wildly. “What were you even  _ doing _ up that late?”

“Y’know, just, random stuff.” Skeppy stared at the ground, slowing his pace as he crossed his arms onto himself, hunching his back. “I forgot about the time, okay?” Skeppy said, looking back up at Bad with guilt written on his face. 

“C’mon, you muffin, let’s just go home.”

The two walked out of the building, and Skeppy motioned to Bad as the ground began filling up with white dots. They watched as the snow fell from the sky to the floor, like little white ships coming down from space. And then, walked on. 

“Do you ever think about what we’re doing, Bad?” Skeppy almost whispered, eyes fixated on the floor in front of him. “Like, are we doing the right thing?”

“I mean, I am the  _ bad _ guy, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Skeppy was silent for a moment. “You get paid to blow up buildings and then I get money pretending to fix them.” He scowled. “Isn’t that suspicious at  _ all _ to you?”

“I have to pay rent somehow,” Bad said, mood souring, the snow crunching loudly under his feet. “I dunno, I like my job. I don’t know where else I could get good pay with a  _ theatre _ degree.”

Skeppy went quiet at that. “I don’t think I like it as much as you.”

“Yeah, at least they gave me armor and padding!” Bad replied with fake cheer, desperately trying to change the topic. 

Skeppy didn’t answer. “Forget I said anything.”

“Whatever floats your boat.”

The two walked back their apartment in awkward silence. Despite it only being September, the snow continued until Skeppy had gone into bed, curling up in a blanket as he watched the sky clear.

It was early in the season and he reasoned that there couldn’t be too much snow yet. But later in the year, when the temperatures dropped, this small snowfall would be a giant blizzard, roaring through the city.

He sipped his cocoa, and waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dsfajkjksldf the writing on its own is pretty okay, but goddamn if I didn't give anyone context lmao
> 
> okey basically: the only time i could imagine the 'superhero' trope actually playing out was if it was like people's actual jobs, like they were paid to do this. and then, who would pay them? the government! why would the government purposefully create a bunch of terrorist attacks on its own citizens? corruption! and after a certain amount of time, corruption in the government eventually leads to r e b e l l i o n (the incoming 'blizzard' as opposed to today's 'snowfall')
> 
> total time taken: ~1.5 hours
> 
> there was gonna be a fighting scene but im leaving the action for another day this took way too long since yesterday's was long as h e c c
> 
> edit: there's now a continuation/prequel of this on ch. 16!


	5. tubbo fluff+angst fantasy au // The soft smell of wheat.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo felt his body move in a rhythm as he walked through the town, the coins in his bag and the cobble beneath his feet ‘clinking’ in time. The guards that usually patrolled the city were strangely absent, leaving him in a brighter mood as he waved at those walking by.
> 
> He should have known something was wrong.

Tubbo began his morning as the sun barely began to rise, looking out the window with hope.

Strapping on his boots, he quickly moved through the wheat fields, entering the silo before filling his satchel with grain and making his way down the small hill he lived on, into town.

His life was full of love for the things around him, and he greeted all the creatures he walked past. He gave a sparrow a small wave, watched the bees make honey, and tended to his cows when he reached the bottom.

Tubbo felt his body move in a rhythm as he walked through the town, the coins in his bag and the cobble beneath his feet ‘clinking’ in time. The guards that usually patrolled the city were strangely absent, leaving him in a brighter mood as he waved at those walking by.

The village always moved a step ahead of him, time always passed faster in the town than back home. When Tubbo reached the town square, the sun had already reached its peak, and he ran across the streets with more vigor. Soon enough, he came across his destination. 

“Hey!” He shouted at the baker, waving with excitement. “Mister Philza Minecraft!” A wide-brimmed hat turned around, his green and tan robes swaying as he moved. Recognizing Tubbo, he gave a smile and set down the tray in his hands.

“Tubbo!” Philza replied, leaning across the counter. Tubbo smiled, dropping six pieces of silver onto the counter. 

“You know what I want,” he chuckled, staring at the walls, which were much redder than when he was here last. “I like your new decorations.”

“Yeah, Techno and Wilbur had too much to drink last night. Took forever to clean up.” Philza said, shaking his head at Tubbo’s excitement. 

“Who won?” Tubbo asked, leaning over the counter, watching as Philza stuffed a cotton bag full of bread and pastries. 

“Who do you think?” Philza asked, rolling his eyes and handing him the bag. “Safe travels!” Philza yelled, Tubbo having already left the building. 

On the way to the mill, Tubbo could spot people eating lunch, and his stomach grumbled in envy. If it were earlier in the day, he might have paused and called over Tommy to enjoy some of the pastries with him. Alas, he would have to catch up with his friend tomorrow. 

Tubbo stayed on his path, arriving at the mill in quick time. He handed over his wheat and took the silver in return, walking home with a feeling of pride in his chest at completing this week’s chores. 

* * *

Tubbo came home to a charred field, the smell of burnt crop stinging his nose.

His satchel dropped to the floor as he covered his mouth in shock, no sound escaping him except for a quiet shriek at the sight. Memories of soft smelling wheat became bastardized into the haunting images of fire and forest ablaze. Tubbo closed his eyes at the image.

He felt his knees give out underneath him, and a quiet sob crept out of his throat, before being followed by an army of ragged breaths and whispered pleads. Tubbo held his face in his hands, shoulders shaking as the tears started coming faster and faster. He let out a terrible, wretched scream, scratchy and hopeless and full of sorrow. 

The front gates swung open as Tommy rushed in, looking around in a frenzy before setting his gaze on the kneeling figure. He quickly rushed his arms around Tubbo, and the two stayed in silence.

“Why?” he croaked, face pale and eyes empty. 

“It’s the new emperor,” Tommy spat, face scrunched in contempt. “He’s been setting fire to those ‘conspiring against him’ in some twisted show of power.”

He began to remember with a sickening feeling in his gut how absent the guards were today, how quickly the people had been passing him by. Those eating lunch had fixated their eyes on him, and the mill runner had given him more silver than usual. All of them knew about this.

All of them, but Tubbo. 

As slowly as the sadness had come, it abandoned him in an instant. The rope which tethered his soul to his body was slowly becoming undone, thinning and thinning until none of it remained, and Tubbo stared at the ground with an unreadable expression.

The emptiness in his heart was slowly filling to the brim with rage, and he looked up to Tommy with a hard gaze. “We can do something about it, though,” he said flatly, fists clenching the dirt in frustration. 

Tommy stared at him in a mixture of awe and fear. “Yeah,” he said, copying Tubbo’s resolve. “We can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tubbangst. tubbo in some angst. whatever will he do
> 
> total time: ~1.75 hours. writing the first part took only like 10 minutes and i was i n - c l a s s and then editing took an hour for no good reason
> 
> you can Tell we've been reading the scarlet letter bc of the overuse of adjectives, but i liked it so we're keepin it
> 
> adjfklskdfjslfsjkal the new update will most likely be shorter bc ya author keeps. uploading. long-ass chapters. and then. not doing all the hw they're supposed to do


	6. bbh horror // Midnight in an open field.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you could trade places with the deer, you would. The afterlife seems like a far more comforting reality than whatever hell you’re living through right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw// descriptions of a dead animal body + blood. self-hatred/intrusive thoughts.

Upon biting into its neck, you feel your damned soul return to its body.

You remember feeling a volatile hunger, your feet being as swift as knives, your teeth as sharp as the wind. You blink. And your eyes are glued to the red fluid slowly trickling out of teeth marks in the flesh, and with a run over your teeth with your tongue, you find the blood’s other destination. If you could trade places with the deer, you would. The afterlife seems far more comforting than the hell you’re living through right now. 

Death settles into the body like weeds settle in soil, and your heart drops as you realize its chest won't rise or fall ever again. You had taken that deer's last breath, the blood that flowed through its veins now lies in your mouth, your throat, your stomach. Bile creeps out of the back of your throat and it somehow tastes sweeter than the liquid on your tongue. You swallow it down with a wince.

Distant church bells ring in your ears, twelve in succession, each hitting of the bell making you remember another ugly detail. The feeling of flesh in your mouth, the itching grass against your aching legs. The moon shines behind you while your shadow, dark and foreboding, stretches across the ground for miles. 

There is a pinching pain in your gums as fangs retract, eyes dim, and the wings on your back shroud themselves once again. Spiralling horns shrink down beneath your scalp as you clutch your head in sorrow. Though you may now look the part, there is no trace of humanity left in you. You have played both criminal and jury, and have been declared guilty by your own judgment. There is no one to witness your suffering, nor a shoulder to cry on. 

It is midnight, and you are alone in an open field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise your regularly scheduled fluff will return at some point in the future this was me ~experimenting~ and i've decided that horror is difficult but also f u n 
> 
> this was vaguely venty?? ish??? ajkldfs 'venti' this ain't a starbucks
> 
> total time taken ~45 minutes. i drafted this in phone notes in a bathroom. go figure.


	7. tschlatt angst // A victorious smile.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, Tubbo, I’m so _proud_ of you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw// blood, horns, self-deprication

Tubbo’s eyes stayed fixed on a dot in the grains of the wood in front of him.

“I heard the news.”

It was interesting, the lines and dots looked like they could be a picture. Tubbo could see a mouth and a pair of eyes, and the shadow of ram horns on the wall.

“I almost didn’t believe Fundy when he told me.” The shadow got closer, growing in size, and Tubbo kept his gaze on the wall in front of him. Certainly, if he kept his eyes fixed on the lines and grooves of the wood, he would be left alone.

“Oh, Tubbo, I’m so  _ proud _ of you!” Schlatt exclaimed, stepping into view. He wore a big, fake grin and Tubbo repressed a wince at the strong cologne and loud voice. 

He looked up at Schlatt from his chair and felt his eyes water, grimacing before schooling his expression into something blank and neutral. Schlatt chuckled like this was an inside joke, and Tubbo joined in with a croak, before the puddle on the floor reminded him of what he’d lost.

He stopped laughing. Watching as the tears pooled and rippled on the floor, he could only think of the spatter of blood on the walls. He remembered rattling windows, the wind howling with him in grief as it tore through the house. The rain had mixed with tears had mixed with blood, the loss of his mentor had shattered him. 

If he only looked at the floor, he could pretend there wasn’t a knife in Wilbur’s back, that the bedsheets weren’t slowly growing redder, and that he wasn’t the one who clutched the handle, nervous and afraid. 

Schlatt’s booming laughter brought him back to the present, turning Tubbo to face the mirror, who had taunted him ever since. “I think our deal is sealed, huh?” He asked with a chuckle. With a snap of Schlatt’s fingers, Tubbo’s head immediately began to throb with pain, a sharp stabbing sensation coming out of two points in his skull. He heard a terrifying rip, like that of seams coming undone, and felt a new weight on his head, strangely balanced.

When he looked up into the mirror, he could see two small horns beside his ears, eerily resembling the man behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is what happens when i spend too much time on tiktok, see the one about t-schlatt, and go apeshit
> 
> yes this is the second time i've written about post-murder guilt in a row. no there's nothing suspicious about that officer
> 
> i've been hoping to get back on track with fluffy non-like. weirdly murdery angst. hopefully tomorrow will at least have some hurt/comfort, no promises tho
> 
> took ~1 hour. im typing this as i wait for my zoom class to start and its been five minutes laoshi-


	8. skephalo brave au // The bowstring snapped.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad watched with mock interest as yet another suitor failed his trials.
> 
> Another man, a slim figure with black hair, stepped up to the center, with all the nervous tendencies of the past hundred. His blue cloak billowed in the wind, and Bad hoped he wouldn’t take too long.

Bad watched with mock interest as yet another suitor failed his trials.

“Next!” His father called, and he slouched further in his throne, groaning as challenger after challenger came in, attempted his trials, and failed. Some of them were good sports, graciously accepting defeat with a lovely bow and a charming smile. Others were the reason guards stood next to him, shields at the ready. 

Bad had no interest in being wed anytime soon, he had refused of the all available women in the neighboring kingdoms, and even beyond that. The queen, in retaliation, allowed everyone to compete, because marriage was still an alliance proposal if Bad got hitched to a prince. 

His proficiency in archery had led him to make the unbeatable trials: hitting seven targets in a row, beating him on horseback, and besting him in combat. Unless Bad wanted to lose, nobody would be able to gain his hand in marriage. The challenge worked exactly as designed.

He watched with boredom as another man came to the center, black-haired, and with all the nervous tendencies of the past hundred. His blue cloak billowed in the wind, and Bad hoped he wouldn’t take too long. 

Taking a deep breath, he raised back his bowstring and fired at the first target.

The arrow landed a few millimeters off the bullseye, though he was doing better than the past few. Originally, kingdoms sent their best archers, and, upon their failure, begun to send incompetent men, the last one not even knowing how to hold a bow. Though unintentional, the reputation of a fool’s errand worked in Bad’s favor, and he did nothing to dispute it. 

The second bullseye hit the mark, and Bad watched as the next three followed the same fate. Each time, the man took a deep breath, closing his eyes and taking his shot. On the sixth drawback, he pulled back the string without hesitation and aimed, closing an eye as he lined it up with the target. As the string bounded the arrow forward, Bad yelped in surprise as a sickening crack ruptured throughout the field.

The bowstring had snapped, the pressure on the wood showing itself as splinters that went throughout the wood. The man shouted something in victory, for he had only one more target to complete, before looking back down as his weapon, his expression changing into something unreadable. 

Taking another bow off the wall, and setting his old one on the ground, the man aimed and fired at the seventh and final target. Like the first, he was a few inches shy of the bullseye, but his father boomed in congratulations, declaring that he had won anyway. 

Although Bad was confident in his abilities, his expression still soured as he exited the stage.

* * *

Bad sulked as he strapped on his riding gear, giving his horse a grimace as he brought her out of the stables. 

The man, introducing himself as Skeppy, had taken a black horse after Bad refused to let him ride Lucy. It wasn’t without merit, for Skeppy proceeded to improperly put on all of his armor and the poor horse’s saddle. 

“Do you even know how to  _ ride _ a horse?” Bad asked, staring at Skeppy in shock as he wrapped his shin-guards around his forearms. 

“Totally,” Skeppy said back with a grin, “Ridden horses before, that’s something I’ve done.”

Bad was silent. “You idiot.” He lightly smacked Skeppy on the arm before readjusting the armor and plating to be where it was supposed to, and turned the saddle around, securing the foot-straps. Doing another once-over, he brought both their horses to the open field.

“Okay, you put your foot in this holster, making sure you’re secure,” Bad said, demonstrating on his white-spotted horse. “And then, bend your knees up and get on the saddle.”

Skeppy tried to follow along, but Bad quickly dismounted to assist. He caught Skeppy falling off the horse, quickly helping him out of the foot-strap, and tried again. “Okay, foot in the holster,” Skeppy murmured, making an ‘oomph’ noise as he got up, and with Bad’s directions, mounted the horse. 

Bad mounted Lucy, and began to tour him around the nearby woods. 

“What brings you to the kingdom?”

“Why do you care?” Skeppy replied, giving Bad a weird look.

“My parents keep making me take these suitors on stupid archery contests,” Bad grumbled. “I’d rather not hate my riding partner if we’re going to take this slow.”

Skeppy’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, you can ride and shoot at the same time?” He gave the horse a kick like Bad went over earlier, bringing them to a stop. “I just figured out how to use these reins like, ten minutes ago.”

“We’re not doing an archery contest this time, dummy,” Bad said with a roll of his eyes, feeling his mouth rise at the corners. “At least, I hope not. I’d destroy you.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

Bad took an arrow out of his quiver, aiming it directly at Skeppy. He turned a little to the left, and snagged a fruit on a nearby tree, the arrow making the other man freeze in panic as it nearly grazed his ear.

“You were saying?”

They stared at each other, and Bad felt his face slowly get red. Giving an awkward smile, he only felt more and more uncomfortable under Skeppy’s gaze. Then, Skeppy burst out laughing, and Bad joined in with a chuckle, and the two dissolved into giggles under the tree. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes this is a brave au. no i dont know where it came from
> 
> if you look on your left you'll see me projecting the aroace identity on to literally everything i touch. they stay friends. they get married. they're still friends.
> 
> took ~2 hours? maybe 1.75? idk i didnt count and a lot of it was during class
> 
> nastia, go to sleep.


	9. wilbur+tommy slice of life // Watching the world below.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tommy?” Wilbur called out, heart stopping at the sight by the railing. “Tommy, no!”
> 
> “Relax,” Tommy said softly, turning around. “I just like the view.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw// mentions of suicide

_ where are you? _

_ technos didnt pick you up _

_ tubbos mum gave me a lift _

_ im on the top floor _

_ wait what _

_ tommy we dont know anyone on that floor _

_ the floor above that one _

_ the _

_ the roof? _

* * *

Wilbur scowled, Tommy was such a bitch. The ‘read at 14:38’ message glared at him from the screen, and he went to put on a coat before he realized.

Tommy had never shown suicidal tendencies before, but why else would he be on the roof? Wilbur remembered rubbing insults and Tommy coming home with bruises, complaining about bullies before starting a stream. Had he gone too far with the SMP bit? Was Tommy secretly hurting? The boy always acted like he had thick walls, but victims always kept in the dark about this kind of thing.

Wilbur rushed out the door, cursing as he pressed the wrong elevator button. Fiddling with his key-card, he cut the person in front of him, pressing the ‘20’ as a woman next to him looked at him strangely. 

The doors opened, and he went right, running up the stairs like a madman, before shoving on the push-bar to open the top door. 

“Tommy?” Wilbur called out, heart stopping at the sight by the railing. “Tommy, no!”

“Relax,” Tommy said softly, turning around. “I just like the view.”

“Get away from the edge,” Wilbur yelled, walking closer. “Please.”

“Alright, alright.” Tommy raised his hands in mock surrender, walking away. “You’re being weird, big man.”

Wilbur gave Tommy a hug, and Tommy stood in shock, hands still raised as Wilbur let go of the embrace. “When you said you were on the roof, I assumed the worst.”

“Yeah, I could’ve worded that better.” Tommy looked sheepish and beckoned Wilbur back to the edge. “I like coming up here because it’s quiet. It’s nice to just watch the world.”

Wilbur watched as Tommy’s eyes followed the people below, hearing them laugh and talk loudly. A pair of birds flew around each other, diving and rising together, with the mountain behind them as a backdrop. The wind rushed by his ear, and Tommy looked at peace as he watched the horizon.

Wilbur gave a quick goodbye before heading back towards the door, leaving Tommy relaxed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was like,,started before wilbur went off the deep end, and i'll pretend that its still relavant and that wilbur and tommy's alliance + dynamic isn't gone forever
> 
> this took 45 minutes. i did not edit it. i hope its okey
> 
> please listen to elevator operator by courtney barrett. just do it


	10. pogtopia fluff n angst vb au // Particles drifted down.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every time Wilbur blocked, the other team’s back row picked it up easily. Every time Dream got the ball, he would jump ridiculously high in the air, snapping his wrist to bring the ball down. When Illumina passed, it always went perfectly to Fundy, and, despite only playing front row, he could tell his passing form was flawless.
> 
> Techno would back up to approach the ball, and Tommy felt like he was in the presence of a king. His braid would sway as he took his approach, and Techno positioned his arms and elbows in the perfect way to strike, slamming the ball down on the court. His shoes would stomp on the ground, lifting up dust, and Tommy felt like one of those particles drifting down, and sinking into the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no tw's (unless you have a volleyball trigger in which,,,idk mate ur not gonna have a good time)
> 
> some terminology you might want explaining:  
> libero: a position. generally the best passer. only plays back row, and substitutes for the middle.  
> middle: a position. the person who hits in the middle. usually only plays front row, and gets substituted by the libero for back row. they block the most, going from side to side.  
> outside: a position. hits from the left side, and plays all the way around the court. probably the most 'well-rounded' player  
> 'one': a kind of set, made to the middle. its very short and the middle's in the air before the ball leaves the setter's hands  
> 'covering': when players move around the court, especially to the front, to 'cover' an area and make sure they pass any balls that enter it.  
> 'sub in': to substitute one player in for another

Dream knew he was competitive, and didn’t care. 

He watched somewhat bitterly as his teammates joked around in the waiting room, as JV finished up their match against, what was it, Liberty High? The only reason he remembered the name was to remember what the key players were, which outside or middle or, hell, even _libero_ he would have to look out for. 

His teammates gave him strange looks as he kept his head facing a wall, a million possibilities of the game swirling in his head. He was glad they were all here this time, Fundy had been sick last game and Tubbo had to sub in as setter. That was a _really_ weird game, Dream trying to time his approach to the inexperienced freshman. 

He heard rustling to his right as the team went into the hallway to warm up, Wilbur at the lead. While they stretched, they discussed potential plays, who they had to look out for on the team, and Tubbo and Tommy kept making fun of Wilbur and a girl in the audience called ‘Niki’. Techno looked just as confused as he did. 

Although the two of them were technically seniors, and therefore the team captains, Dream still felt like a scared sophomore, waiting on the bench. Wilbur acted more like a leader than either of them, and Dream was convinced the only positive effect they had on the team was intimidating them to be just as competitive as they were.

When the buzzer started, Dream sunk into his position in the back row, his feet shifting in time as the server stayed indecisive about where to stand on the line. Dream made a grimace as he opened up to let Illumina take the serve, the pass going perfectly to Fundy. Moving up to cover, he let out a noise of relief as Techno hit the ball to the ground, the other team’s libero hitting the floor too late.

One point. They only had to make twenty-four more.

* * *

Tommy’s insides felt more like fireworks than actual, internal organs.

The team fell into a rhythm. Bump, set, spike. Tommy had known by heart, it was implanted into his head by every coach he’d ever had. But it was one thing to say the words, it was another entirely to see it in action. He had front row seats to his idols. 

Every time Wilbur blocked, the other team’s back row picked it up easily. Every time Dream got the ball, he would jump ridiculously high in the air, snapping his wrist to bring the ball down. When Illumina passed, it always went perfectly to Fundy, and, despite only playing front row, he could tell his passing form was flawless.

Techno would back up to approach the ball, and Tommy felt like he was in the presence of a king. His braid would sway as he took his approach, and Techno positioned his arms and elbows in the perfect way to strike, slamming the ball down on the court. His shoes would stomp on the ground, lifting up dust, and Tommy felt like one of those particles drifting down, and sinking into the floor.

The outside hitter was a _god,_ and his drive and skill inspired Tommy to train harder and play smarter, just to become a sliver of the amazing player Techno was.

A whistle grated against his ears, and he bounced from his seat, rushing to the sideline to put his hand beside Tubbo’s. He would _finally_ be playing! Rushing onto the court, he followed Dream’s instructions as to where to go, and couldn’t stop smiling as Fundy began to serve, making a clean floater across the net.

Tommy felt his heartbeat grow loud in his ears as he moved around the court in a frenzy, going from approach, to cover, to block. He felt exhilarated and tired and giddy, and he moved around the rotations with nervous excitement. 

There was a rush of wind every time Techno hit the ball, and he stared in awe every time the outside hit. He made it seem so natural, and Tommy watched his perfect approach, swing, and aim, going across the court to hit the other side. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is gonna be longer than the actual chapter i stg-
> 
> total time taken: ~2.5 hours. this was a bitch to write. it took me two days lmao
> 
> okey my volleyball headcanon stuff feel free to click off i had to write it down somewhere:  
> \- tommy's the loud freshmen, wilbur's a junior, fundy's a sophomore, techno's a senior, dream's a senior  
> \- dream's outsider (c'mon, he literally speedruns and doesn't let things drop, classic defense, but he's also a beast at pvp (spiking) (or setter. hmmmm he's setter if the setter's sick but other than that he's outside).  
> \- techno's outside. he's a hitting g o d  
> \- wilbur's middle, boi's 6'5" what else would he be.  
> \- uhhh fundy's ds..? setter? yeah setter seems right he's gotta calculate shit but he can't hit  
> \- tubbo's ds, or back-up setter. sometimes they run 6-2 w fundy and tubbo, an oc (fruitberries..? idk i can't think of people) gets subbed for tubbo's front row time  
> \- tommy plays front row, on the right side but like. he's the back-up. he can play anything. he's fast, he's not the best at spiking but he can r u n and he can block so he's middle, but he likes watching the outsides hit, and he can play right side to sub in for tubbo  
> \- illumina's libero. if speedrunning/calculation translates to back row, illumina's libero
> 
> despite being a middle, i really went and made the two fan-favorites outsides h u h


	11. (cont. of ch.10) sbi fluff+angst vb au // Reaching out a hand.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo knew he was on the court as the last resort.
> 
> Wilbur loved playing middle. He loved the smug feeling in his chest whenever he blocked, watching the other side’s libero dive only to miss it. He loved the rush of approaching a ball that hadn’t been set yet.
> 
> Techno was stupidly competitive, and he knew it.

Tubbo knew he was on the court as the last resort. 

Their setter last year had graduated, so that’s why he got playing time. The team had a stupid amount of hitters, leaving room for him, in back row, to pass. He awkwardly moved around, dragging his feet to wherever they needed to go before the hitter slammed the ball into the floor. 

Illumina loved diving, and he stared for a moment in confusion as the older libero kept going on the ground, saving the ball again and again. He hated it, and how he would walk home with bruises underneath his ribs. He dived anyway, the team mattered more than his discomfort.

It was all so loud. The squeaky shoes couldn’t be heard over the yelling and shouts of ‘mine’ and the hitters calling the ball. He talked too, you couldn’t play the game without it, but every time he felt like he was wasting his voice. It didn’t really matter if he called for the ball, because if Illumina passed it, it would be perfect. He was just there to fill the six-player requirement, he was just a stand-in for better players.

Tubbo soon got into a rhythm, his knees and thighs hurting from staying low. The ball would come to him, and he’d pass it, tilting his arms to get it roughly where Fundy was. It wasn’t perfect, but Illumina was on the other side of the court. It would have to do.

He didn’t notice he was on his last rotation until the serve had already come to him, and he passed it, wincing as the ball went over Fundy’s head, and the setter had to shift around the court. Techno took the ball, slamming it into the hands of the other team’s blocker, and Tubbo shot up front to cover the ball. His eyes darkened as the middle on the other side of the net smirked, and he grinned as the pass went perfectly to Fundy, who set Wilbur up for a ‘one’.

They got the point. Tubbo stood there for a moment, grinning, before going to the center to huddle, then heading to the side to substitute with Tommy.

“Great job, Tubbo!” Tommy all but shouted, matching Tubbo’s grin. “That pass at the end was epic!”

“Thanks,” Tubbo said sheepishly, wondering what was taking the referee so long. They both had their numbers, ‘6’ and ‘14’, in view. “Good luck.”

Tommy scoffed playfully. “Like I’ll need it.”

* * *

Wilbur loved playing middle. He loved the smug feeling in his chest whenever he blocked, watching the other side’s libero dive only to miss it. He loved the rush of approaching a ball that hadn’t been set yet.

Sometimes, though, he wished they still had last year’s setter. Fundy was great, and Tubbo played amazingly last game, but nobody else knew how to run slides like Phil did. The coach kept practicing the outside’s sets and hits, Wilbur felt like an afterthought. But, as he kept playing, joking during rounds as their score kept climbing, he didn’t mind too much.

Wilbur still blocked and covered and occasionally hit. And when they cheered in victory after the first set, Wilbur felt like he deserved the feeling of victory churning in his heart. It was a team sport, after all. 

* * *

Techno was stupidly competitive, and he knew it. 

He liked volleyball, he wouldn’t be on the team if he didn’t, but half the time he didn’t really know what was going on. It was muscle memory at this point, moving across the court like his feet and ankles didn’t ache. Fundy would set him the ball, and he would rush up in a hurry to meet it, marveling at how his hand knew where to send it.

They won the second set, 25-17, and Techno gave the same cheer as the rest of his team, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. 

Tommy and Tubbo talked loudly about the game as they moved off the court, each carrying around three water bottles back to the break. Tommy started bragging about his ‘superior water bottle carrying skills’, and Techno gave a laugh at that, moving across to the other side of the court. 

“Feeling old?” Dream asked, coming up behind him. 

“Nah.” The two began packing up the chairs, helping the parent volunteers put things away. “Just tired.” Techno could feel his braid coming undone, the stray hairs reflecting how worn out he felt. 

It had been a good game, the congratulations of his team echoing throughout the gym.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asdlkfkl; second-half of these two prompts, decided to split them up for consistency's sake


	12. bbh+tommy crack // Chipped netherite armor.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad heard cackling behind him, and turned around to a shocked Tommy, pointing at him before looking at where his helmet was. Bad sighed. “What do you want, you muffinhead?”
> 
> “Did I just hear _the_ BadBoyHalo swear?”

Bad gave a sigh as he felt the netherite break, before disappearing into thin air. He’d snagged it on a tree branch, and despite its great enchantments, his armor was still breakable. He had forgotten to mend it at the experience farm yesterday. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. 

“Shit,” he swore under his breath. That helmet had taken him so long to find the ancient debris, buy or find the proper books, and hammer the enchantments onto. He’s pretty sure if he checked his statistics, he would have killed over ten thousand cave spiders alone, trying to get enough experience. 

Bad heard cackling behind him, and turned around to a shocked Tommy, pointing at him before looking at where his helmet was. Bad sighed. “What do you want, you muffinhead?”

“Did I just hear  _ the _ BadBoyHalo swear?” 

Bad froze, realizing his mistake. A million swears he dared not utter came into his head. “Muffins,” he shouted, with such ferocity one would think he’d be saying a death threat. 

“Wait until Dream hears about this!” Tommy cackled, rushing to leave the clearing, but Bad stopped him, giving him a smirk.

“And you think he’d believe you, muffinhead?” Bad said, releasing Tommy’s sleeve. He watched as Tommy’s face contorted in quick succession at once, from a happy grin, to a wide-eyed stare, to an expression of sad realization. 

“Fuck,” Tommy said emphatically, looking at Bad before realizing. “Wait, you can’t say language!” 

“Yeah, I guess I can’t.” Bad pouted at that, crossing his arms. “Potatoes.” He began to walk into the spruce forest, the pine needles getting stuck in his cloak.

“C’mon, Mister Badboyhalo. Give us a non-PG insult,” Tommy pleaded, looking back. 

“What, you want me to call you a bitch boy?” Tommy cackled at that, and Bad gave a small smile at the amount of pure joy on the boy’s face. He rolled his eyes, smiling too, and wondered at how him saying a few words could have this effect. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dfsjkljdks; this is purely crack i just. the mental image of bbh swearing in front of tommy was too great. take my shitty writing
> 
> took ~45 minutes. vv short vv quick


	13. skephalo fluff fantasy au // Ripples in the water.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two sat together, the crunches of bread filling the silence. Bad looked up at the clouds, pink swirls of cotton candy, and relished in the domestic, quiet moment between them. 
> 
> _I love you._ Bad thought, before jolting himself in confusion. Where had that come from? Somewhere in between the flakes of pastry that now lined the floor, Bad realized he felt warm, and content, and loved.

Bad threw some crumbs in the pond, smiling softly as the ducklings waddled his way.

“You know bread’s actually bad for ducks, right?” A voice said behind him, and Bad glared at the newcomer. 

“Ugh, you muffinhead.” Recognizing Skeppy, his gaze softened, a small smile creeping on his face.

Skeppy always made him like this. 

He patted the grass beside him, and Skeppy sat down, pulling out a paper bag. Bad squealed in delight and tore it open, an array of baked goods nearly tumbling out. Skeppy must have just come from the baker’s, the bread felt warm in his hands.

The two sat together, the crunches of bread filling the silence. Bad looked up at the clouds, pink swirls of cotton candy, and relished in the domestic, quiet moment between them. 

_ I love you. _ Bad thought, before jolting himself in confusion. Where had that come from? Somewhere in between the flakes of pastry that now lined the floor, Bad realized he felt warm, and content, and loved. 

Skeppy smiled at him, and the stupid grin brought Bad back to Earth. Skeppy began giggling, at nothing in particular, and Bad joined him. As he leaned over in laughter, he saw how many crumbs were on the ground, and began laughing again. “Skeppy, we littered!” He yelled, a near-drunken smile on his face. 

“The squirrels won’t mind,” Skeppy chuckled. “It’s probably better than acorns and leaves.” 

“Squirrels don’t eat leaves, Skeppy!” Bad cried out, holding his head in his hands. 

“You don’t know that.” Skeppy crossed his arms, sticking out his tongue. “You’ve never seen a squirrel  _ not _ eat a leaf, have you?”

“That’s such a stupid argument.” Bad groaned, still smiling. “You muffinhead.”

“You’re the muffinhead!”

The two dissolved into meaningless bickering, both smiling and talking louder and louder. Bad found the noise comforting, and he knew Skeppy didn’t mean any of his insults. When they began to quiet, he noticed something out of the corner of his eyes, and brought a finger to his lips, giving Skeppy a pointed look.

“Don’t tell me to shush-”

“Shh,” Bad hissed, pointing at a group of squirrels scurrying up a tree together. They seemed deep in concentration, like they were playing an elaborate game of tag. “It’s like us, right?” 

“Yeah,” Skeppy said softly, eyes fixed on the chasing squirrels. One eventually cut the other off, and the trapped squirrel leaped off the branches, the fallen leaves crunching underneath. The chaser followed, and the two began wrestling on the ground. “You know I love you, right, Bad?”

Bad tapped his finger against his chin. “Hmm.” He smiled. “I love you too, dummy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a fine line between writing platonic love that's soft and deep, and gay shit. i have no idea where this falls. im going to hope its platonic bc this was drawn from platonic experiences but. who knows. maybe i have unintentionally released the gay
> 
> if you havent already please read everything dontrollthedice has ever written. its this level of soft love but much, much better. 
> 
> took ~1.25 hours. writer's block kicked me in the face but after that it was pretty okay. 
> 
> the prompt influence was actually gonna be about how we have this effect on each other's lives that span far beyond what we know, like one drop of water rippling out into the ocean. and then i added a duck pond, so, idk mate you decide
> 
> yes ur honor my mental stability is reliant on the soft vulnerability between block men


	14. bbh angst time-disassociation // Huddled around a fire.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His heart pounded out of his chest as the stomping on the floor shook the shelves, reminders of the head librarian making him shiver. He glanced down at his sleeve, he hadn’t worn a watch since attending the academy, and found his pale wrist bare. 
> 
> He blinked. His hand turned black again, a smooth onyx that shone across his skin. 
> 
> Bad was going crazy.

Bad stared into the crackling fire, the firelight reflecting in his eyes.

His heart pounded out of his chest as the stomping on the floor shook the shelves, reminders of the head librarian making him shiver. He glanced down at his sleeve, he hadn’t worn a watch since attending the academy, and found his pale wrist bare. 

He blinked. His hand turned black again, a smooth onyx that shone across his skin. 

Bad was going crazy. 

His argument with Skeppy replayed in his head over and over again, their yelling growing louder and louder as century-long grudges re-surfaced themselves. His tongue felt dry, and he froze. Those pillars were the same hiding places he’d used while Skeppy cooled off. Maybe their relationship hadn’t changed much at all. 

This library was where he’d skip the day in, reading books until the air around him spun with sentences, always one particular font. He would stare at words enough until they looked like jumbles of letters, and would try to read pages full of gibberish as he dreaded leaving the building.

Bad felt his breaths quicken, stumbling through his chest. His teachers would be so disappointed if they saw him right now, falling back into his old, nasty habits. Not entertaining the thought of his growing mound of work and papers, he picked a book off the shelf and sunk into the cushiony chair.

He had used this tactic before. 

“Bad!” Someone yelled across the library, waving aggressively to get his attention. 

It was Dream.

Bad was brought back to the present, remembering meeting Dream in the restaurant on graduation night. He forced his mind to think of memories with George and Sapnap, and he grinned at the memory of a beautiful mountaintop, laughing at his friend’s red faces. The ruby on a book cover reminded him of stealing the king’s jewels, and the thrilling chase through the castle.

His heart relaxed. Bad felt time come to a standstill beside him, like a racing dog coming to a walk beside its owner. 

Bad waved back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really have nothing to say this was a b i t c h to write. it took me thirty minutes of writing n o t h i n g, then writing all of this in like one go two hours later. technically took em 1.5 hours, but total writing/editing time was more like 45 minutes.
> 
> yes this is a ventfic. no i will not elaborate


	15. winged!tommy angst+h/c // A leap of faith.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For as long as Tommy could remember, he had two wings protruding from his back.
> 
> For as long as he’d had the wings, they’d felt wrong.

For as long as Tommy could remember, he had two wings protruding from his back.

For as long as he’d had the wings, they’d felt wrong.

On anyone else, he wouldn’t have batted an eye. Tubbo showed off his golden feathers, the gold catching the sunlight. Philza had a beautiful pair of black wings, and he would arch them over his head in a show of power and display, shimmering silver feathers peeking through. Wilbur had specifically sewn wing holes into their L’manburg uniforms, taking pride as he dived at Dream during battle. 

Wings didn’t belong on Tommy, though. They felt awkward, out of place, like God made a small mistake before sending him out into the world. 

Some days were worse than others. Tommy often felt fine, the wings had been a sign of allegiance to L’manburg, the camaraderie with his fellow soldiers making him less uncomfortable. He even flew in battle a couple of times, the weirdness of his wings’ muscles actually  _ moving _ was overshadowed by Wilbur’s smile and cheer.

Some days Tommy felt like taking a sword to his back, and slowly hacking them off like a lion pulls out a thorn. He didn’t talk about those days much, accepting them as the ‘bad half’ to his good days.

Mellohi and Cat were a pair, after all. 

* * *

When Schlatt’s announced his presidency, his already bad day had gotten worse.

“Tommy, we have to get out of here.” He barely hears Wilbur’s voice over the static in his head, the low ringing in the back of his mind as he processes what just happened.

Upon their defeat, their L’manburg citizenships were revoked. They were outcasts in the SMP Land too, and before long, Tommy was being dragged by the sleeve off the podium; a splash potion hitting the floor before he blinks his eyes. 

He heard the flapping of wings in the distance, Wilbur must have climbed the tower to get a better starting height, and the weights on his back made him feel sick. 

All he could do was run. 

When he got to their base that night, he was full of scratches and bruises, his armorless torso bearing the brunt. The only people who knew how to accommodate wings in clothing were those in the city he’d just now been banished from.

Wilbur cursed upon seeing his injuries. “Bloody hell, Tommy, why didn’t you just follow me?” 

He murmured something under his breath, rubbing his arm and staring at the floor.

“Tommy!”

“I didn’t want to, Wilbur!” Tommy shouted, before composing himself. “I- I thought if we split up, it’d be harder to chase us.”

Wilbur stayed silent for a moment, breathing through his mouth quickly in a way that made Tommy flinch. He paused. Slowly opening a chest, he brought out bandages and cotton swabs, even a bucket of water, and began making work on Tommy’s injuries.

“Is that the only reason?” He asked, his voice low and eyes averted. The two had moved outside to wash his arm, not wanting to get the stone floor wet. Tommy watched as the water splattered onto the grass, tinted pink from the trace amounts of blood.

“Yeah,” he replied, matching the quiet tone. Wilbur wrapped a band of cotton and gauze around a particularly nasty wound on his arm, and Tommy’s stomach sunk with the lie.

Bringing out some ice from his ender chest, Wilbur pushed it into Tommy’s hands, having him press them against his bruises. Wilbur then began working on his back, and Tommy closed his eyes as Wilbur patched up his back and the things attached to it.

If he didn’t see it, it wouldn’t feel real.

* * *

When Tommy woke up, he saw sunlight streaming through the doorway, casting his shadow onto the stone floor. 

His back felt tight.

The pressure felt comforting, and he lied down with his chest facing the ceiling. He breathed slowly and deeply, watching his chest rise and fall. Tommy’s back was flat, and he leaned against the wall with a smile, not having to worry about extra limbs to worry about. 

Sitting up, the shadow against the wall had a flat back, no weird feathers muddling his silhouette. A light breeze swirled dust particles on the floor, and Tommy relaxed his shoulder. 

Tommy had always hated mirrors. The shadow on the wall felt more like himself than the countless reflections he’d stared at.

He made a note of where Wilbur had hidden the gauze, and began to rise out of bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jadfksl there was gonna be a john mulaney reference that just goes  
> ‘You marked that one as blond, right?’  
> ‘Yup.’  
> ‘And wingless?’  
> ‘Fuck.’  
> but it did n o t fit in with the flow of the story so uhh. here u go
> 
> why have i suddenly found motivation to write wing dysphoria h u h this took like 1 hour in total spread over like a couple of days. we're almost at the halfway point
> 
> vent?? kinda?? idk what do i write but ventfic and specific au's and fluff for the soul.


	16. (cont. of ch.4) skephalo action superhero au // A lovely day.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skeppy was late.
> 
> Bad twirled his knife in boredom as the bomb timer ticked away, not caring about the hostages’ stares or thrashing against their restraints. 
> 
> If Skeppy didn’t arrive in time, he’d have to start actually hurting people. And despite Bad’s combat skills, his stomach always turned whenever he had to fight. Skeppy, he knew, could take it. The company had issued him padding and armour underneath his suit. Civilians had no such luxuries. 

Skeppy was late.

Bad twirled his knife in boredom as the bomb timer ticked away, not caring about the hostages’ stares or thrashing against their restraints. 

If Skeppy didn’t arrive in time, he’d have to start actually  _ hurting _ people. And despite Bad’s combat skills, his stomach always turned whenever he had to fight. Skeppy, he knew, could take it. The company had issued him padding and armour underneath his suit. Civilians had no such luxuries. 

He tensed, footsteps rattling through the metal grates. Finally. 

“Ugh.” Bad waved at the hero, smiling at Skeppy’s glare. “I thought you’d never arrive.”

“Traffic was a bitch.” He yawned. “What are you doing  _ this _ time?”

“Language,” Bad taunted, tapping his fingers against the wall in anticipation. “Just blowing up some mild-mannered civilians. Or, at least, rigging something up for it.”

Bad watched with glee as Skeppy’s eye-line moved to the muffled screams of the hostages, to the black box that sat in the corner, a kitchen timer on top reading out a number: 4:56. Skeppy sighed before raising his fists, and shifted his weight forward. 

He flew across the room, rushing to Bad’s side before punching the villain in the stomach. Bad winced as his back hit the floor, sharp pieces of shrapnel piercing through his coat. He watched Skeppy waltz over to the control panel, acting like he’d forgotten the company demo on how to disable a bomb. 

Bad began getting back on his feet, and he smirked as Skeppy was nearly leaning against a wall, facing away from him. He let Skeppy open the side of the box, clutching his side in pain before bringing out three knives from inside his coat.

“Oh, Skeppy,” Bad sang. “When will you stop underestimating me?” With one throw, Bad pierced through Skeppy’s cape, jacket, and pant leg, pinning him to the wall. Slowly, he walked up to Skeppy’s face, forgetting about their audience.

“You smug bastard,” Skeppy scowled, eyes still fixated on the timer. 

“Language!” Bad said with a scoff, kicking a pair of wire cutters out of reach. “I’d like to see you try to escape this.”

Skeppy blinked, before blowing a raspberry in front of him. He gave a small grin as Bad backed away in shock, trying to wipe the spit off his face. Using his ‘free’ arms, he began taking out the knives that had trapped him to the wall, and cackled at Bad tripping over a stray grate edge, falling onto the floor.

Bad watched as Skeppy fumbled through tying him up with rope, closing his eyes to feign a concussion, injury,  _ anything,  _ that would make Skeppy seem like less of an idiot that he was right now. 

Luck wasn’t on their side, though, and he heard the civilians shriek as the building began to shake. Skeppy cursed, and Bad could hear the rope around their wrists being slashed, the muffling devices falling to the floor with a loud ‘clank.’ He heard Skeppy shout at them to evacuate, giving directions on where the fire exits were. 

Once the last pair of footsteps left the building, Bad cautiously opened his eyes. He grinned as Skeppy came into view, and called out. “Hey, come untie me, you muffinhead!”

“Coming, Bad.” Skeppy rolled his eyes, and Bad grew concerned at the deep eyebags underneath them. “You can stop the building from shaking, now.”

“Oh, yeah. Third button from the left on the control panel. Bottom row.” Bad tilted his head towards what looked like a set of light switches, directly opposite from the table with the bomb. Skeppy sighed, used to Bad’s antics, and opened up the box. 

“This one?”

“No, one more to the left,” Bad called out, sitting up. He sighed in relief as the building stopped shaking, and smiled as Skeppy untied the rest of the rope. “Good work today, Skeppy!”

“You too, Bad.” Skeppy gave him a small smile as Bad began taking his knives off the floor, and put them back in his holsters. “C’mon, let’s get back to headquarters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay!!! continuation of the superhero au!! the first couple of sentences were actually taken from a deleted scene from day 4, so im glad i got to finally write the whole thing out!
> 
> a chapter every two days seemed really manageable for me, so expect that upload schedule in the future. 
> 
> fjklsdf;lfd i wrote like a third of this in half an hour, than speedran the rest in an hour and a bit. i have been assigned as skeppy-kin by how many spelling typos were in this. grammarly's a real one
> 
> once i've completed all the prompts, i'll probably go back and rearrange all the chapters to be in the correct order, split the two-day ones in half, that sort of thing. might add an end chapter with my final thoughts on them, ranking them, y'know.
> 
> lemme know your thoughts in the comments! <3 <3 (also here's [this chapter's shameless plug from my youtube recommended](https://youtu.be/qCh6CEQTXBM). fan content has been keeping me a l i v e)


	17. tommy+wilbur s.o.l. music // Under the moonlight.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strumming much slower, he started a different tune, one he had memorized. He could envision the obsidian walls he’d originally seen when he first sang it, remembering the simpler times with his fellow soldiers.
> 
> \--
> 
> He shrank in on himself at Wilbur’s glare, the smile following it unsettling him even more. Wilbur had a crazed look in his eyes, and Tommy followed the trenchcoat billowing in the wind, trying not to think about its owner.

Wilbur brought his guitar out around the fire, strumming some basic chords as he listened to the fire crackle. “Oh, Achilles,” he began, fiddling with the strings. “Come down from the- fuck.”

He started over.

Strumming much slower, he started a different tune, one he had memorized. He could envision the obsidian walls he’d originally seen when he first sang it, remembering the simpler times with his fellow soldiers.

“I heard there was,” he started, closing his eyes as his heart ached with the melody. “A special place. Where men could go, and emancipate.” He heard the wind pick up, the slow rustle of leaves turning into a howl. 

“The brutality and tyranny of their rulers.” He chuckled at the irony, L’manburg hadn’t been a safe haven since the election. “Well, this place is real, you needn’t fret. With Wilbur, Tommy.” His voice cracked at the line, they were far from perfect partners now. 

“Fuck Eret.” The guitar grew colder in his hands, the wind making him shiver. “It’s a very big and not blown-up L’manburg,” he sang with regret. “Not for long.”

“My L’manburg,” he lamented to the night sky, the wilderness, the fire. It hadn’t been L’manburg, or his, in a long time. “My L’manburg.” He kept his gaze down at the strings, the holes in his gloves freezing his fingers off. 

“My L’manburg. My L’manburg.” He drew out the last vowel, bringing his voice and head up and down with the note, before strumming the ending chord with finality.

A small clapping could be heard from the tree behind him. Wilbur sent down his guitar, rushing to investigate. Tommy yelped and ran past him, breaking the dirt entrance to their base. Sealing it behind him, Wilbur stood back in silence, frozen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! it's been like two days, and i wrote all of this w very minimal editing. ~1.25 hours, you could say, but hey. i don't really pay attention to the clock. (also i wrote this to the 17th prompt and then the 18th one weirdly fit. yay?)
> 
> the second scene was heavily inspired by [this ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NYDhrB_nC3E)
> 
> school has been on my ass about things and while writing a lot is the whole point of this challenge, i dont want to prevent myself from doing other creative things out of guilt to this. so! fair warning: updates may get unexpected and not be every day from here on out. I'll try to keep doing something for every prompt, but we may drag into november a bit to finish everything up.
> 
> much love, y'all. <3 <3 <3
> 
> (also, take my rant to my friend about this: wilbur has set up these two themes: of tommy having to trust those around him (in defiance of his speech that everyone has betrayed them), and tommy having to step up as a leader (in defiance of wilbur’s ‘you were never going to be president’). we’ve already seen these play out, as tommy’s distrust grows with his ‘pogtopia’ leaders, and as he takes in a new leadership position for the ‘underground’ pogtopia (of tubbo, niki, and himself))


	18. tommy+wilbur angst music // Hand in hand.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two brothers had run into the forest, and two enemies emerged. Tommy’s white scarf had become stained with red, and Wilbur’s beanie had holes snagged through it. The woods had torn through their clothing as they lived in it, and Tommy found the scratches and holes very fitting.

_ashes, ashes_

Tommy pleaded and begged, tugging on Wilbur’s sleeve as they snuck into the festival. The sound of booming TNT lingered in his mind as he remembered with a grimace at how L’manburg took the explosion earlier. 

He shrank in on himself at Wilbur’s glare, the smile following it unsettling him even more. Wilbur had a crazed look in his eyes, and Tommy followed the trenchcoat billowing in the wind, trying not to think about its owner.

_dust to dust_

Two brothers had run into the forest, and two enemies emerged. Tommy’s white scarf had become stained with red, and Wilbur’s beanie had holes snagged through it. The woods had torn through their clothing as they lived in it, and Tommy found the scratches and holes very fitting.

_the devil’s after both of us_

Wilbur’s words seemed to echo around him as the festival began, his friend’s joyful spirits and laughter only mocking him. Betrayal stung in his heart as he watched them dance, uncaring at how the dictator had exiled him. He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know Wilbur was feeling the same, and while Wilbur relished in the bitterness, Tommy struggled to reject it. 

His heart felt a little lighter as Tubbo replied on his communicator, sneaking away to meet them on the roof. Maybe he wasn’t too far gone, yet.

Wilbur’s demeanor remained hostile as they talked, lashing out at Tubbo and Tommy, and claiming their deceptive nature. Tubbo’s smile was strained as he walked towards the podium, and Tommy noticed how he clutched the microphone, his hands turning white. 

_lay my weary head to rest_

As Techno climbed up to the stage, Tommy’s eyes sagged and he felt drowsiness overtake him. The sun began to set as Techno brought out a crossbow, and fired at Tubbo. 

He was so tired. Tired of fighting with the only man willing to ally with him. Tired of sneaking out to meet with his best friend, the threats and potentially fatal consequences looming over them. And he was tired of the fact that, despite his best efforts, his enemies kept beating him, winning even when they weren’t supposed to. 

Tommy sighed, resting his head against his fist as tears began pooling at his eyes.

_make a mercy out of me_

His breath held no anger, nor spite, nor any loud emotion so characteristic of the boy. Instead, it leapt into the air with a lingering sadness, weariness, like that of a traveler on death’s door.

Tommy just wanted everything to be over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'second half' of yesterday's prompt!! combined a/n's are in _that_ one


	19. schlatt+ghost!tubbo horror // No time to spare.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can’t get out, Schlatt.” You bring out a stick, lighting the coal tip, and try to focus on the gray, stone walls. The flame flickers, and you take off your helmet to stop the cold that bites your forehead. You brush off the dust with your fingertips and let the metal catch the light. In its reflection lies a figure in tattered cloth behind you, and you feel its breath against your neck.
> 
> You turn around. Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw // choking, mentions of blood, paranormal shit (descriptions of spirits), torn clothes (like,,rips. nothing seggsy thats weirdchamp)
> 
> not gorey but just. generally spoopy.

You hear the sound of scraping metal against the stone floor, and cover your ears as it slowly scrapes across the floor. You could swear it gets louder each time, until you can feel the vibrations underneath your feet, and realize that it’s getting closer.

Death rattles like a set of linked chains, and you look behind you to an empty tunnel, and feel your sanity start to slip. Had you been imaging that? Surely, unless this was some sort of spirit that’s come to haunt you.

The face of the boy comes back to you in a flash, and you close your eyes to escape it. 

“Schlatt.” A voice echoes throughout the hall, and you feel the cave walls get closer as the voice keeps hitting your ears again, and again, and again. Your teeth rattle and shoulders shake every time your name is repeated.

“I can’t get out, Schlatt.” You bring out a stick, lighting the coal tip, and try to focus on the gray, stone walls. The flame flickers, and you take off your helmet to stop the cold that bites your forehead. You brush off the dust with your fingertips and let the metal catch the light. In its reflection lies a figure in tattered cloth behind you, and you feel its breath against your neck.

You turn around. Nothing.

And yet, there’s rustling heard on the cobble behind you. Putting the helmet back on, you break blocks as you move forward, not daring to look back. The rustling grows closer.

You breathe with relief as the daylight breaks through the dirt, and you push yourself up and out of the mine. The wind blows gently on your face, and your insides tickle at the breeze. Grass moves beneath your feet, and the outside world makes you feel grounded better than any torch ever could.

Something is shifting behind you. You turn around once again, you’ve dispelled this creature twice already, and yet.

The spirit stares back into your eyes, and its ghostly pale and translucent form making your gut wrench. You recognize the tattered suit, the tie that’s full of holes and stained red. Its face is broken too, like strands of thread clinging to weathered fabric, and it gives you a smile, its teeth nowhere to be seen.

“Lovely to see you again, Mr. President!” It smiles, you presume, and approaches you again. Your feet move without thought, causing you to stumble and lean backward in panic as you climb up the hill, keeping your eyes fixed in front of you. The  _ thing _ smells of death and decay, of rain mixed with blood and flesh. 

Each step it takes towards you emanates a ‘crunch’ from the soft grass beneath you, and as you stumble to climb the hill, you watch as the wildlife withers beneath its feet. Its ankles are bound in chains, and trail behind it down the hill, clanking against each other with every step.

You feel your back hit a blackstone wall, and your eyes widen as it opens its mouth, this time with no such radiance as the smile beforehand.

It looks hungry. 

With a grunt your hands fly to your neck, feeling an invisible force clutching and choking it. Your vision dims as it begins to chuckle a million laughs, booming together in perfect time. When its hand releases you, you fall to the floor, feeling weightless and airy as the ground beneath you twists and turns.

Its hands have grown claws, and it pulls your face up, squishing your cheeks in between its claws. When it releases, your head falls back down the floor, blood streaking from the scratches along your jaw. 

Scowling, it grabs your blouse in its fist, swinging you above the ground as the threads keeping the cloth together begin to snap. Like the wind, it throws you across the hill, and you hear your body hit the stone floor with an unsettling crunch, feeling your ribs and your head begin to snap and ache. 

It smiles at your grimace, and you notice its shadow drag along the floor, and how it now towers over you, much longer than the small figure that followed you in the mine. It had grown horns, too, swirling out from the side of its head, cracked and twisted and glossy.

For a brief moment, you remember the horns that stay in your vision, in the corner of your eye. You two were eerily similar, it seems.

The being then howls, and all the muscles in your body tense and freeze. Your bones resonate with the deep frequency, and you scramble off the floor. As your legs ache, the being stares into your eyes, expecting something.

You feel like you’re facing judgement by this being, and under its stare, you appear to have failed. Your attempt at a smile looks more like a grimace, and you wince as it pounces, expecting the punches and kicks again.

Instead, your body moves like a puppet, moving like mad and hurling itself onto the floor. You watch like an outsider as your face bruises, your legs crack, and are brought back to your body lying on the grass, misshapen, with sharp jolts of pain stretching throughout every nerve you have.

Blinking the tears out of your eyes, the figure changes its form again, the mouth shrinking, the horns retracting, and its hindquarters retreating under a cloth and thread.

It stares back at you with the same smile, though, and you hear the chains tread along the grass as it comes closer, and you can’t bring yourself to care. As it comes into vision, you begin to see the resemblance to a certain kind-hearted, dead, secretary.

Tubbo was missing an eye and an ear, half of his bones near exposed and his eyebags deep-set into his face. He grins at you, and you hold your breath as he comes closer, pressing his face against yours. 

“I had a great time catching up, Schlatt.” His form collapses as the wind blows a powerful gust, and you choke as the dust begins to fill your lungs once again. You lay there for hours, until the sun begins to rise, and your body feels even colder in the light.

For a moment, you feel regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reet!! a predictable schedule?? for once?? mayhaps?? kjsfdljlks i wrote the first draft of this in f o r t y minutes, then proceeded to edit for an hour bc Words Didn't Sound Exactly Right
> 
> grammarly. i love you. no i will not add or remove a comma. it adds drama. beat. rhythm. t o n e
> 
> inspired by 'leave, luanne' from 35mm: a musical exhibition, [especially this performance of it](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YiE2nFwiZOc)
> 
> spoods, go to bed.


	20. skephalo fluff // Looking up at the sky.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad leaned his head against Skeppy’s chest, his heartbeat comforting and true. He tilted his head up and watched in awe as the stars twinkled above them. Perhaps a million universes away, there was another Earth, another planet. Maybe they would get to meet them someday.
> 
> He giggled at that. What could aliens bring that he didn’t already have? Bad felt content and satisfied, and smiled as the wind rustled the leaves. 

Bad leaned his head against Skeppy’s chest, his heartbeat comforting and true. He tilted his head up and watched in awe as the stars twinkled above them. Perhaps a million universes away, there was another Earth, another planet. Maybe they would get to meet them someday.

He giggled at that. What could aliens bring that he didn’t already have? Bad felt content and satisfied, and smiled as the wind rustled the leaves. 

“What’re you laughing at?” Skeppy mumbled, squeezing softly as Bad chuckled again. “What?”

“Aliens could come down to Earth, Skeppy,” Bad declared, gesturing at the stars. He could feel Skeppy move his head, and heard the confusion on his face. “And I wouldn’t care.”

“Why wouldn’t you care?” Skeppy rolled his eyes. Bad knew how ridiculous he must sound, but proceeded anyway. He knew Skeppy didn’t mean it when he made fun of him.

“Because I’d have you.” He slithered out of Skeppy’s grip, and stared him in the eye, grinning as Skeppy’s face turned red. “And no alien technology could beat that.”

Skeppy stuttered at that, opening and closing his mouth until he settled on a smile, pointedly looking anywhere but Bad’s eyes. He patted the seat next to him and began pointing at the sky. “Here, I can just talk about constellations.”

“Way to change the topic,” Bad teased, sitting next to him. He felt his shoulders relax as he listened to Skeppy talk about Orion, hunter’s belts, and star signs. He would occasionally chime in with notes about Greek mythology, and together they discussed the patterns and stories of the sky. 

At one point, Skeppy brought out a mat to lay across the floor, and Bad felt himself get drowsy. His cheeks felt tight from smiling so much, and he closed his eyes for a moment to rest. 

Skeppy grew quiet next to him, and together, they slept under the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me?? using the prompt as it was probably intended?? n e v e r. also: i didnt mean to ghost y'all for three days, but it just kinda happened that last week and this week had an ungodly amount of tests. school is mean and hard and i like it anyway for some reason.
> 
> took about half an hour?? ish?? wrote this vv quickly in like 20 minutes, then edited it in 10. the lack of time probably shows lol
> 
> hope y'all enjoyed!! please listen to [meteor shower by cavetown](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lZfj-Lhnrb4)


	21. tommy+tubbo(+wilbur) deity au+war au // Quiet rustling in the grass.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy’s face shook with surprise at the newcomer, before breaking out into a grin, his eyes still shell-shocked.
> 
> Wilbur grinned. He’d never seen Tommy that happy before. “Is he an old friend of yours?”
> 
> “Something like that,” Tommy mumbled, still staring at the recruit. He looked back at Wilbur for approval, and when he nodded his head, Tommy cupped his mouth in his hands, shouting loudly enough for the whole camp to hear. “Tubbo!”
> 
> \--
> 
> “Oh, Tubbo, you’re so naïve!” Death cackled, taking one of the creatures and squishing it in between his fingers. Life’s face fell as the poor bee’s body fell onto the grass while Death wiped the stain off his hands.

Tommy’s face shook with surprise at the newcomer, before breaking out into a grin, his eyes still shell-shocked.

Wilbur grinned. He’d never seen Tommy that happy before. “Is he an old friend of yours?”

“Something like that,” Tommy mumbled, still staring at the recruit. He looked back at Wilbur for approval, and when he nodded his head, Tommy cupped his mouth in his hands, shouting loudly enough for the whole camp to hear. “Tubbo!”

The recruit turned his head in surprise, before similarly smiling, running over. “Tommy!” He melted into a hug, and Tommy brought his head into Tubbo’s shoulder.

Wilbur looked away, not wanting to intrude. He heard whispers between the two young men, and he smiled softly at how close they seemed. He could only imagine how he’d react if he somehow reunited with  _ his _ brother.

No matter, they had been assigned to completely different battlefields. Wilbur didn’t even know whether Techno was alive, let alone when he’d see him again. 

Tommy mentioned his name, and he came back into focus, smiling and introducing himself to the new soldier. “Good to meet you. I’m Wilbur, I’ll be your captain.”

“I’m Tubbo!” Tubbo said with excitement, looking at Tommy. Tommy gave him an expecting look, and Tubbo cleared his throat. “Oh, uh, I’m here for training.”

Smiling, Wilbur led them away from the main halls, and into the training building. Tommy had already proved himself to be a promising recruit, showing an extraordinary amount of passion and skill. If Tubbo was anything like him, they would secure their homeland from the invaders.

* * *

“Oh, Tubbo, you’re so naïve!” Death cackled, taking one of the creatures and squishing it in between his fingers. Life’s face fell as the poor bee’s body fell onto the grass while Death wiped the stain off his hands.

Life stood up, crossing his arms and turning around. His white cloak trailed on the ground, and behind him sprouted bushes and flowers in the naked dirt. 

Death followed, running into a sprint, and that same greenery shriveled and dried beneath his feet. He tugged on Life’s arm, and Life’s expression was muddled as he stared at the ground.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Life said, crossing his arms and turning away. 

“I mean.” Death brushed off the green spots on his cloak, looking sheepish. “It’s kind of in the job description.” Life grinned at that, and looked up into Death’s eyes. “I’ll make us some flower crowns? To say sorry.”

Life brought Death into an embrace, then spread his arms out, his cloak shimmering silver in the sunlight. The ground beneath them sprang forward daisies and moss. Death smiled as the flowerheads peaked their way through the dirt, and plucked them when their stalks were long, carefully handing them off to Life.

“Bees are off-limits, then?” Death asked, weaving the grass headband. Life looked up in surprise, his flower crown falling off. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Life said, forming another ball of light in his hands. “Honestly, I didn’t expect you to care.”

Death clutched a hand over his heart, looking dramatically indignant. “How dare you! I’d never lay a hand on a bee again,” he declared, and, snapping his fingers, a stinger materialized inside that ball of light. 

“Getting it to kill itself is a work around, I guess.” Life said, shrugging his shoulders.

Death gave him a smug look in reply.

* * *

They had been ambushed.

The smell of burnt grass and ash hung in the air, and Wilbur’s face was fittingly covered in soot. The medic tent had burned patches in the fabric, and he shivered every time the wind came through. The beds were dirty, but they were all they had, and as he lied down, a similarly ashen Tubbo opened the tent flap inside.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he said, before truly laying eyes on Wilbur’s injuries. His entire left forearm was covered in one long cut, wrapping around his wrist to beyond his elbow, and he gave a grimace at the concern in Tubbo’s eyes. Tubbo had only some minor scratches, a small cut on his forehead dripping blood down his face.

They had both seen better days. But Tubbo, despite his youth, seemed accustomed to the bandages and gauze, and he beckoned the medic to help the other patients.

“This isn’t your first battle, huh?” Wilbur croaked, sitting up. 

“No, uh.” Tubbo fiddled with his uniform cuffs. “It isn’t.” 

He felt Tubbo take his arm and watching as the man washed and patched up the injury. The silence between them seemed to grow thick, the smoke in the air making Wilbur’s eyes water, and Tubbo turned back to the open flap by the tent door. He froze, his eyes widening in fright, and Wilbur slowly peeked through the gap as well. 

Tommy stood outside, just in view, wearing a black cloak that seemed to shimmer in the light, and shook violently in the wind. His hair stuck to his forehead, and he charged out of view again, yelling profanities as he attacked the soldiers standing by the tent. 

Where had that cloak come from? Their regiment’s uniforms had no such items, and he was certain Tommy wasn’t wearing it in battle earlier. 

He turned to question Tubbo, and got an exasperated look in return. Tubbo was near glaring at the fight happening outside, his hands still holding the gauze attached to Wilbur’s forearm. Wilbur rustled gently to bring Tubbo back to reality. “C’mon, you can’t just leave me here.” 

Tubbo jumped, his face turning red. He nodded, and finished up the bandages, muttering what Wilbur assumed to be a prayer under his breath. Wilbur’s eyes began to shut, and he felt consciousness begin to slip away from him. 

He would later wake up, and unwrap his bandage to a fully healed wound, the skin untorn and smooth. Outside the tent lay the invading soldier’s skeletons, dust settling on their bones. 

Tommy and Tubbo were nowhere to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was originally gonna use the prompt as like some sort of eden-ish creation myth then decided. hey wait. why was the christian one the default, and then wrote out the creation story for bees. it actually worked much better than i thought it would. god au's have been on my radar and i was happy to try my hand at one. i dont think it went how i was expecting, tho
> 
> minimal editing, but this took a w h i l e like. 40 minutes to write the rough draft. then another forty-five to finalize it and like. figure out what's happening 
> 
> explanation in case it wasn't clear: tubbo and tommy are two deities, each representing life and death respectively. they like to live amongst mortals and get attached, and wilbur's a soldier caught up in a war (l'manburg/revolutionary war-esque? aesthetically? the language is all vague on purpose), tommy decides to help him. tubbo heals wilbur's wound ~magically~ and tommy kills the invading soldiers ~magically~. him and tubbo hadn't seen each other in literal ages, so there's a cute reuniting scene. tbh? one could even classify them as platonic soulmates


	22. sbi+tubbo humor chatfic // A completed portal.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> innit:   
>  so  
>  i may have made a mistake  
>  just a slight fuck up
> 
> wilbur:  
>  what did you do
> 
> innit:  
>  it wasnt actually me this time  
>  the furry and tubob were going deamon hunting
> 
> toob:  
>  donto drag me into htis
> 
> innit:  
>  they opened a portal to anoher dimensoin  
>  and i may have fallen in  
>  _several people are typing..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy

innit: 

so

i may have made a mistake

just a slight fuck up

wilbur:

what did you do

innit:

it wasnt actually me this time

the furry and tubob were going deamon hunting

toob:

donto drag me into htis

innit:

you prick

they opened a portal to anoher dimensoin

and i may have fallen in

_several people are typing..._

philza:

what

wilbur:

what

techno: 

bruh

philza:

explain

toob:

shit

innit:

i come homet o our dorm room after shcool and theres a fuckign h o l e in the floor

i uhh

i jumped

in

philza:

tommy you idiot

innit:

VERY HELPFUL

anyway i ended up in this cave room thingy

the sky is dark and theres fog everywhere how do i get home

wilbur:

At this point i’m not even surprised

toob:

is tyher aythig tgsat ylok lk;e an exit

innit:

w h a t 

toob:

is there anything that looks like an exit

innit:

that took you way longer to type than it shoulf have

also no

toob:

wht esle is there

innit:

just hwat i said

wilbur:

anyone else think it’s weird tubbo had a portal in their room?

toob:

oaky

*okay

techno:

no yeah thats really weird

toob:

do you aveh anyt hing in yoru pcokets

innit:

ur dumbass book

toob:

good

go the page thats tabbed

innit:

whichh one

toob:

gliht belu?

innit:

which

which one

toob: 

fuckit iim at the door

im jioning you

philza:

wait whAT

NO

techno:

blood for the blood god.

toob: 

okoay i cant see anyhtnig

tommyu were r u

innit:

i dunno

wilbur:

Great. Now there’s two of them

toob:

jESSU YOU DINUT HSVE TO STOMPS THAT LOUDLHY

innit:

LMAO YOU LOOKED LIKE AN IDIOT

HE JUST SCREAMED LIKE A BITCH

philza:

im putting you on silent

wilbur, text me if you need me

innit:

IT WAS LIKE A LITTLE GIRLS LOLLLLLLL

wilbur:

Bold of you to assume i’m staying

these idiots can solve it on their own

innit: 

wait no wilbur 

please dont leave

toob:

its fien ive got tihs

innit:

Dont leave me with him

toob:

im gettin g us out, just os yuo know

tommy si being alitle btich

innit:

fuk you

wAIT NO THANK YOU

toob:

ig ot us out

innit:

I NEVER THOUGHT iD BE HAPPY TO SEE THIS SHITTY DORM

AND YOUR SHITTY SIDE OF THE ROOM

toob: 

can oen fo you text fudny plase

i ned 2poepl to lcose the protal

wilbur:

Sure

he said he’ll be there in a few minutes

he has to get from the other side of campus

toob:

okay

thanks

philza:

you’re staying on dnd until you text us without asking for help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i wrote a chat fic. no i will never do it again
> 
> i was curious about the medium!! and have decided ill probably never do it again lol. i much prefer the formatting for the 'roof' one, better comedic timing and everything. this was like, the 'best' humor ive written tho so. hopefully more people other than me find it funny?
> 
> this took ridiculously long. all typos are intentional. i had to manually space them forward. i can only hope its easy to read. ~1.5 hours for something i am never doing again.
> 
> hope y'all enjoyed lol
> 
> (yes i technically made up this entire like magical school/witchcraft au which is not hogwarts nor harry potter but, ironically, also a boarding school. yes i only mention it in passing. thats on ~shitty worldbuilding~)


	23. tommy light angst universe swap // The eyes stared back.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy felt his body slam into the stone floor underneath him, the mouse in his hand and seat underneath him disappearing completely. He groaned as his body slowly sat up, and he sluggishly tried to reorient himself, before looking up. 
> 
> -or-
> 
> Tommy wakes up in a world that's not his own.

Tommy felt his body slam into the stone floor beneath him, the mouse in his hand and his seat cushion disappearing completely. He groaned as his body slowly sat up, and he sluggishly tried to reorient himself, before looking up.

A masked man raised his fists, and Tommy froze.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Tommy?” It asked in Techno’s voice, and Tommy scrambled to get away, his back hitting a cold wall before he checked his surroundings.

Instead of his room, with its nice painted walls and carpet, lay a stone box similar to one on the monitor that used to be in front of him. In fact, the man in a pig mask could even resemble Technoblade, his hair short, somewhat wavy, and oddly pink.

In the background, he could hear someone laughing.

He looked past the man in red, and the vaguely stone hole beyond him. Fuck it, Tommy could bet if he climbed out of this pit, he’d find something similar to the Pogtopia ravine out there. Two figures watched as he ran around the box, and he remembered flashes of black and white before he closed his eyes.

“What the actual fuck,” he muttered, before glancing back. “Where-” he stared into the man’s eyes, white pupils glowing in a black backdrop, and felt like an intruder on some very private moment.

The man reared back to punch him again, and Tommy moved along the wall, the fist barely grazing his side. He repeated, and Tommy kept doing his best to dodge, watching as his red cape swayed every time he took a step, the gold trim and chains clinking against each other.

Tommy kept his eyes fixed on the man’s movement. He didn’t want to think about the bar of hearts just out of focus.

Another punch and Tommy’s head felt light, and the room seemed to dim and brighten as he tried to keep conscious. Lying on the floor, he felt another kick to his gut, and consciousness slipped away from him.

* * *

Tommy woke up under soft sheets, his hair sticking to his forehead and his fists clenched. His breathing was ragged too, starting and stopping in a disorganized rhythm that left his heart stuttering and trying to keep up.

He closed his eyes and tried to center himself. Slowing, he tensed and untensed his fingers, and went through the motions of calming down his whole body. He made note of the crackling fire a few feet away, the breeze that came through, and the dank and musty smell.

Tommy’s eyes opened. He used his hands to push himself up, crossing his legs as he sat. He took the blanket and wrapped it around himself, groggily rubbing at his eyes. A pair of white and black shoes were by his feet, and he did up the velcro with deliberation.

The wall next to him was made of polished stone, the grass floor rustling slightly in the wind. On every surface were propped-up torches, the fires moving and wisping in the air. The resemblance to the tower in Manberg unnerved him.

A buzz came from his right pocket, and he patted himself down before finding the flat, square device. He winced at the bright screen reading ‘incoming call’, and haphazardly pressed the green button.

Loud sounds came through, and he dropped the thing in surprise. The grass cushioned its fall, and his shoulders tensed at the voices.

He recognized them. 

“I- I am satisfied with today,” Wilbur said, and Tommy remembered the flash of black, the brown coat he had on. Wilbur had been cheering Techno on.

“It stays in the pit.” Tommy flinched at the voice, his bruises aching.

“Thank you, thank you, Techno.”

Tommy’s hand clutched around the communicator, his eyes watering. He pressed the red button to end the call, looking around at the different tabs and channels open. Tubbo had an account too, and he stared at the call button before making a decision.

“Tubbo?” he choked. 

“Yeah?” Tubbo’s voice rang through the speakers, and he scrunched his face while he found the volume settings. “Wait, where’d you set your respawn to?”

“I think I’m lost. Where am-” he paused. “What just happened?”

“You lost to Techno in the pit,” Tubbo replied matter-of-factly, like the battered feelings in Tommy’s bones were no cause for alarm. “I can come guide you back to base, where are you?”

“I’m in a tower, I think?” He moved to the entrance, the stone clicking against his feet. The clouds moved quickly ahead, and he noticed scarily how the sun was approaching night. Where was he?

“All the way back in Manberg?” Tubbo said, and Tommy’s stomach twisted. If he was unsure of it before, Tubbo confirmed it.

He’d somehow ended up in the Dream SMP, alternate versions of his friends and all. The weird outfit he had on, the bed and the ‘respawning’, and the quickly approaching night all made it clear. 

And if that were true, he had no idea of how to get home.

“Can you bring Niki, too? I have something I need to tell you.”

* * *

By the time Tubbo arrived, Tommy had figured out a few things. 

He’d experimentally pressed the button by the door, shutting it from the outside monsters. Inside the tower, he’d kept himself entertained by exploring the communicator, sending private messages to Tubbo on his way. He’d even looked down at what he assumed a ‘hotbar’ was, ten hearts rattling while his hunger dwindled.

None of it prepared him for Tubbo’s arrival, and he stared with his mouth open at the horse made of bones. The white looked oddly polished, the ribcage and vertebrae curling into a moving animal, and he felt bad for the poor horse’s back as Tubbo and Niki huddled together on one saddle.

His stomach turned at Tubbo’s strangely dyed hair and blue contacts, the pressed suit and green tie making him shudder. Niki looked like her Minecraft skin too, a pastel pair of blue overalls hanging off one of her shoulders. 

They both got off the horse in a swift dismount and stared expectantly at him.

Oh, right.

“Uh, I think you should come inside,” he said, gesturing at Tubbo to lead the horse. “I don’t think I’m from around here.”

His voice echoed off the walls, and Niki took a step back once the door closed behind her. “What?” she asked, arms raised above her chest.

“What do you mean?” Tubbo said, and Tommy stared at the floor.

“We were so worried when you didn’t come back to the ravine,” Niki cried, clutching her heart. “What are you talking about?”

Tommy fiddled with the communicator. “I don’t remember a world like this, and I don't know anyone here."

Niki stared back at him, her eyes going between his guilt-ridden face and the communicator in his hand. Tubbo looked too, his face not empty yet strangely detached, and as Tommy finished, he broke into a grin. “Oh, I think I know what’s going on!” 

“What?” Niki narrowed her eyes.

“He must have lost his memory in the pit.” Tubbo shrugged. “Techno did hit him pretty hard.” 

Tommy crossed his arms. “I don’t think anything’s wrong with my memory. Where I’m from, all of this is just a game we play on our computers, it’s not real.” 

Niki frowned. “I think- I think you are going crazy.” She wouldn’t be wrong, Tommy felt insane when he said it.

Both looked at Tubbo, who had been tapping his finger against his chin. His face suddenly brightened in understanding, and Tommy took a step back.

“Wait- it could also be that he’s from an alternate dimension,” Tubbo said, pointing at Tommy and taking the communicator out from his pocket. “He must have swapped bodies with our version of Tommy, right as Techno was about to beat the crap out of him.”

Tommy nodded. “I guess that makes sense.” 

“What-” Niki huffed, crossing her arms. “That makes no sense at all! How did he end up here, then?” She looked into Tubbo’s eyes, wincing as she spoke. “He might have lost it like Wilbur.”

Tubbo shrugged. “That’s also a possibility.” He turned to Tommy. “What’s your home world like?”

Tommy began to relay the information, Niki looking increasingly skeptical as Tubbo began taking notes on his communicator. He described his career, his friends, and his school, and he choked during his description of his parents. Tommy ended his speech talking about the last moments leading up to getting teleported into this world. 

Tubbo looked like he believed him. Niki held her hands together, eyes averted. Slowly, she looked him in the eye.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” she said. “But, I’ll try and help get you home.”

Tubbo gave him a smile. “You may not be _my_ Tommy, but you’re somebody’s. I’m sure your home universe is missing you a lot.”

“Thanks.” Tommy chuckled to himself, embracing the two of them. “I’ll try not to be an asshole about this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i speedran this in like two hours, and my math homework is judging me for it.
> 
> i know this isn't the best quality thing i've ever written, but, by god, if i'm not a sucker for this trope. i love it to death, and like. it needs more love. im getting giddy writing this summary because then i'll get to include the tags. ([this fic may have been the start of it](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16616795), but [ this one got me inspired to write it for this fandom in particular](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26896927))
> 
> this is getting continued for tomorrow's prompt!! just so y'all know. 
> 
> lemme know what you think in the comments <3


	24. techno angst universe swap // A moment of clarity.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He suddenly found himself in an upright position, and his hand made a fist as the mouse and keyboard disappeared. They came back wet, though, and he stared in horror as blood began dripping onto the floor. His arms were covered in red fabric, the material glossy in the light. 
> 
> Someone was laughing.

Techno smiled, leaning forward in his seat as he dealt the finishing blow. He could hear the keyboard clicks, his fingers moving with force as he killed off the character.

He suddenly found himself in an upright position, and his hand made a fist as the mouse and keyboard disappeared. They came back wet, though, and he stared in horror as blood began dripping onto the floor. His arms were covered in red fabric, the material glossy in the light. 

Someone was laughing. He looked up to see Wilbur standing in front of the strange stone pit, wearing a strange black hood and brown coat, holding his head in a gloved hand. Techno could swear he had seen that outfit before.

“Thank you, Techno!” he shouted, his voice echoing across the stone. Techno took a step back, his foot catching on something on the floor.

A pile of items lay on the floor, an axe, a pair of white boots, and even some logs. He walked over to it, bending down and ignoring the metals chains that clanged together. It was odd how many of the things now strewn across the floor could be from Minecraft, of all things.

He didn’t dwell on that, chuckling instead to himself. “It stays in the pit,” he said, the last words from his fight with Tommy ringing in his ears.

He heard Wilbur scamper off, footsteps leaking through the stone. Finally.

Experimentally searching the pockets of his comfortably lined robe, Techno’s hand caught and slipped into some kind of pocket dimension. His fingers clutched something metallic, and he pressed a button on the side before its white screen lit up.

‘Tommyinnit was slain by Technoblade.’ Even the pixelated font was the same. Scrolling through the tabs, he found contacts listing his friends, strange profile pictures next to their names. There even was a tab listing a private conversation between him and Wilbur, and he willfully ignored the new messages. 

There was some kind of revelation he was sure would come of that information, but put it off to the side. The more pressing matter was figuring out where he was, and how to get home. He continued exploring.

The ravine looked eerily similar to the one from the SMP, and his eyes followed the grooves and edges of the stone to try and calm himself down. A patch of andesite bled into cobblestone, which eventually meandered into a pool of plain gray at the base, a few chests and furnaces scattered around.

He pressed his hand against the furnace opening, marveling at how raw potatoes would wait on top of the grates as the coals roasted them from below. When it finished, it miraculously teleported to a small platform on the furnace’s side.

Techno jumped at that, his shoulders hunching like a spooked cat. He closed the furnace and tried to find an exit.

Each step he took on the stairs echoed throughout the ravine, and he hunched his shoulders to try and sneak his way up. When he reached the top, a small stone and dirt room, he realized he had no way of getting out. Despite the similarities to Pogtopia from the SMP, he couldn’t exactly break the dirt wall.

Well, it wasn’t that thick, right? Taking a running start, Techno rammed through the wall, coughing as small particles filled his lungs.

His robes were covered in dirt, and Techno felt like a fool. Luckily, there was a pond not a few blocks away.

Blocks? Feet.

Techno ran over and began taking off his shoes, strangely two-tone colored boots, and stopped at the sight of his reflection.

Instead of a normal, well, beige face, lay a pink mask and pointed ears. His outfit was also like that of his Minecraft skins, and he felt oddly judged by the wilderness at his resemblance to ‘cosplayers’ he’d seen on his Twitter feed. The mask even resembled the one from the famous animatic they had been showing around, and he pondered for a moment whether the face underneath would be human. 

He didn’t want to think about that. The water was being mean to him, and he closed his eyes as he washed his face, flicking water through his robes to get the dirt out. 

Techno shook himself dry, feeling like a dog, before running further into the forest. He needed to figure out where he was, and he grumbled as the thick brush and leaves got caught and snagged holes through his coat. The fluff behind his ears was now full of dirt and pine needles, and it itched at his neck. 

Daylight was quickly burning as time seemed to pass in an instant. Hadn’t it been noon when he broke the dirt wall?

Techno stopped, frantically blinking his eyes. Where was he? Another breath and he dropped to his knees. How had he gotten here? The robes’ velvet scratched at his arms, and he threw it to the ground. The red seemed to taunt him, the bloodstains matching the fabric. What kind of twisted logic did this world follow? The sunlight seemed to drain from the sky in response, and he hung his head in his heads. Light bitterly persisted, gleaming through the cracks in his fingers.

A bush out of the corner of his eye was taunting him, and Techno was sure if he squinted his eyes, the round berries would grow square edges.

In a moment of clarity, it hit him.

Fuck. He was stuck in some Minecraft world and had no way of knowing where home was, nor if there was some kind of escape at all. He certainly knew no-one here, nor how any of this place worked. The tears started flowing more easily, and he wept under the tree for a while, grabbing his coat and wrapping it around himself, not caring at the dust and dirt getting on his face.

Every time he felt nearly done, or ready to move on, he remembered something else he’d never have. He would never feed his dog again, or see his parents again, or get to play a game on his PC. Never again would he walk to the store, or scroll through Twitter, or just get to lie in bed and do nothing.

He threw the stupid pig mask onto the floor, smashing it under his foot.

And yet, there was a rustle in the growth behind him, and he quickly wiped at his face, head leaned back against the tree.

“Techno, you alright?” An alternate version of Wilbur said, Pogtopia cloak and all. His smile seemed ingenuine and slid off his face, and he tilted his head in concern. 

“Yeah, sure,” he murmured, eyes glancing down. 

“You left your crown in the pit.” Wilbur held up a dull, golden crown, and Techno snatched it away from him and lopsidedly put in on his head. 

“Oh? Yeah, I guess I did,” he replied, getting up in a hurry. The robe slid off his shoulders, and he dusted himself off, pretending that the crown wasn’t falling off his head. He wondered how anyone could do anything with it on.

Wilbur gave him an unreadable look, before unsheathing a sword and holding it at his neck. “You’re not Technoblade,” he hissed, pinning him to the tree. 

Techno raises his arms in the universal symbol for ‘peace,’ staring at the point inches away from his neck. “Woah, woah, let’s put the sword down.” The tree bark dug into his back, staining the weird white-collared shirt he had on. “I’m sure there’s an explanation for this.”

“Yeah?” Wilbur asked, pointing his finger at Techno’s chest. “How about you explain who the hell you are?”

“I am Technoblade, I swear!” he shrieked. “I have no idea how I ended up here.”

Wilbur scoffed, digging his blade deeper into his neck. “I don’t believe you.”

“One moment, I’m sitting at my desk, and the next, I’m in a weird roleplay world. I’m pretty sure I’m still dreaming, by the way,” he babbled, and Wilbur rolled his eyes at Techno tried to pinch his skin. 

“Your cover story is that you’re from some other world?” Wilbur asked, putting his sword away. Techno’s back stayed pinned to the tree. “Really? That’s the best idea you could come up with?”

Techno shrugged, pulling at his neck collar. “I mean, it’s the truth?” 

The two stared in silence, and Techno wondered how Wilbur could assume the worst of him in this state. He was sure there were still tears stained down his face, and his eyes felt red and puffy. 

A rustling came from the trees behind Wilbur, and a man wearing a white mask, dressed eerily similar to the Dream fanart on his Twitter feed, poked his head out. Wilbur released his grip, and Techno took a step away from the tree before the man spoke. “What kind of world are you from?”

Techno took a step back, smiling a little at Wilbur’s incredulous look. “Dream,” Wilbur hissed, eyes darting between him and Techno. “You were only meant to be back-up.”

“Yeah, but, c’mon.” Dream shrugged his shoulders, sounding too pleased with himself. “Other world? Potential technology?” 

Wilbur held out his arms, shaking them to convey the intensity of his feelings. “We were having a moment! He’s a fucking intruder on SMP lands, what makes you think we can trust him?” 

“Yeah, but think of the advancements! What kind of weapons would another world have?” Dream crossed his arms, tapping his fingers on them in an unrecognizable pattern. “We could beat Schlatt with something he’s never seen before.”

Techno realized he never wanted Dream to know about nuclear weapons. “I mean, I can try? You have to realize I know like, nothing about how technology in the real world is made.”

“Yeah, Dream,” Wilbur said. “He might not know anything important. Does everyone on the server know how to enchant stuff?”

Dream shifted his feet. “Well, no, but-”

“Exactly! How can we be sure he’d have anything useful?” Wilbur sighed, looking back at Techno. “How can we be sure he’d tell us how to make them, anyway?

“He at least knows what future technology is like-”

“He never said anything about his world! You’re extrapolating based off of something that isn’t true,” Wilbur said emphatically. “You don’t know where he comes from, why he was brought here, hell, you don’t even know his real name.” 

Techno felt a sense of dread rise up his throat. “It’s Technoblade, I said that earlier.”

Wilbur kicked Techno to the ground, and he wheezed as Wilbur stomped on his ribcage. Dream watched from the side, tilting his head to convey his eyes were rolling.

“Okay, how about we ask him, then?” Dream said, looking him in the eyes. “Techno, what’s it like where you’re from?”

“Well,” Techno coughed. “There’s way more people, for starters. All of this,” he said, gestured at the forest, “is a video game, like something you’d play with on your communicator thing.” 

Dream listened intently. “Do you know the mechanics of the game?”

“I’m only the best player in the world,” Techno scoffed. “I’m pretty sure I could help you guys out with potions and stuff. Have you figured out poison arrows yet?”

“Nope!” Dream said, a smile in his voice. “I’m sure we can learn a lot from you.” He reached out his hand and helped Techno up off the ground.

“Yeah, and I can figure out how to get home,” Techno said, and Dream tilted his head.

“Not before you tell us everything you know,” he said gravely, hand gliding over the axe on his back.  
Techno quickly reassured him. “Yeah, of course.” 

“Good.”

Techno fiddled with his cloak. “How does- Other Techno? Other Techno wear this crown, anyway?”

“Oh, here.” Dream took the crown into his hands, raising it above Techno’s head. To his surprise, it began floating, and he watched in awe as it followed his head around. “Here, I’ll lead you back to the ravine.”

Together, they walked back home, Wilbur sulking behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck, mate. did i just write the exact same premise with different characters? mayhaps. did i promise a 'continuation' when this has none of the same characters? mayhaps.
> 
> was this a bitch to write? abso-fucking-lutely. it's over 2k words. it took like 3 hours over the span of 4 days. take it and lemme know your thoughts in the comments.
> 
> (yes, dream technically wouldnt name this the 'smp', with it standing for 'survival multiplayer'. it was probably snapmap naming it something ridiculous, and he liked the acronym. also: dream didn't mention taking down schlatt because he wanted to use them against him, lol traitor!dream ftw, he said it bc he needed to convince wilbur. also: yes dream gets giddy at the prospect of new technology. i think its something strangely in-character for him)
> 
> edit: dslksdfaljk i forgot to title this too lmao


	25. skephalo swordfighting fantasy au // The laugh echoed back.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His right hand floated over the sword at his back. Taking it out, he examined it under the light, smiling as the diamond shimmered and glowed. He winced, remembering its rightful owner, and sheathed it again.
> 
> Bad had to make his father proud.
> 
> \--
> 
> Unlike the other competitors, this one was dressed a pleasant teal, the color reminded Bad of the, now fading, blue sky. He smiled and introduced himself as Skeppy, and Bad felt weary in the face of the man’s pure energy. Taking five paces away from each other, Bad could feel his nerves begin to recede; he had one final match to win.

The harsh sound of metal on metal could be heard from outside the arena, and Bad winced as he approached.

His stomach twisted at the face of his father at breakfast, harsh lines etching his face as he made sure Bad knew the consequences of this tournament. Kitchen pots rattled as he went, and he remembered the quiet that came after slamming that door. The gentle breeze had been at his back as he journeyed into town; the dandelions seemed to greet him as he walked past.

He checked over his bag again, his equipment staring back at him in judgement, and he suddenly felt quite silly. Surely, between leaving his house and arriving at the arena, nothing had wandered out. Nevertheless, he ruffled through it, and his heart relaxed as everything remained where it was.

His right hand floated over the sword at his back. Taking it out, he examined it under the light, smiling as the diamond shimmered and glowed. He winced, remembering its rightful owner, and sheathed it again.

Bad had to make his father proud.

His footsteps echoed throughout the arena floors, and he was greeted by a cleric before finding his rightful court. The distance between the floor and ceiling seemed infinitely large, and he tilted his head to the sky. Sunlight poured through the glass roof, and he squinted his eyes before looking back down, searching for his court.

There lay a red-clad man already beginning to stretch. Bad shuffled over, shaking hands, before retreating to the other side of the box. As he went through the motions, his mouth felt dry, and he shifted his feet with his sword in hand, trying to find his balance.

When they started the match, he swiftly jabbed at his opponent, taking the lead. The round was over in less than a minute, as he feinted and struck again, his sword tip finding its way to the other competitor’s neck. Tommy laughed in good faith as Bad helped him up, but looked away at Bad’s closed-off expression.

One down, however many more to go.

The next few rounds went similarly textbook, increasing in difficulty and length as the day went on. Nonetheless, Bad remained the victor and laced his boots up again for his final round.

Unlike the other competitors, this one was dressed a pleasant teal, the color reminded Bad of the, now fading, blue sky. He smiled and introduced himself as Skeppy, and Bad felt weary in the face of the man’s pure energy. Taking five paces away from each other, Bad could feel his nerves begin to recede; he had one final match to win.

Skeppy took the first step, poking on Bad’s left before striking his right, and Bad’s heart began to beat fast as he stayed on the defense. For a moment, the only sound that could be heard was their shuffling feet, and Bad fell into a rhythm of movement and rest as they dueled.

“Nice form,” Skeppy said, breaking the silence. 

Bad remained quiet, focusing his hand on parrying Skeppy’s sword. He had no time to talk.

Skeppy huffed, a gentle smile creeping onto his face. “You’re the longest match I’ve had today.” He stepped back as Bad went on the offense, squinting his eyes before regaining his ground. “I’ve been the reigning champion for like, three years now.”

“Shut up,” Bad muttered, his sword moving more wildly than before. 

“Oh my god, I didn’t know you talked.” Skeppy had a smug look on his face which infuriated Bad. With a swipe of his sword, Skeppy was brought to the floor, and Bad paused.

Skeppy refused to answer. “Do you forfeit?” Bad asked, rolling his eyes. Staying silent, Skeppy aimed his sword at Bad’s knees, and Bad was back on the defense. 

“No,” he teased, sticking out his tongue as the two battled again. 

There was a level of intensity that wasn’t there before, and Bad felt his muscles loosen as they feigned and struck and parried. He even smiled as Skeppy’s attacks became more complicated, jumping in the air and quickly moving his feet. It felt like dancing, moving with a partner, neither willing to give up the battle.

Bad felt warm at that, and with one strike, Skeppy had similarly struck him down to the floor. For the first time today, Bad was at this end of the sword, and he didn’t feel an ounce of unhappiness.

“Do you forfeit?” Skeppy sang, mocking Bad. Bad smirked and struck him in the legs the same way his opponent had before. He balanced the sword in his hand and pushed himself up, dusting himself off as Skeppy did the same.

They resumed. The third, and final, duel between them went quickly, with Bad striking and feinting, moving quickly. If neither of them would forfeit, he needed to win the hard way.

Skeppy held his ground, dodging and stopping Bad’s attacks, and began striking back, not gaining much leverage. Bad’s sword continued to move in a flourish, forcing Skeppy to move backward as his feet scuttled across the court. Bad smirked as they approached the line, and held his breath.

The harsh yell of the crowd brought both of them back to reality, and sound rushed back to Bad’s ears. He released his breath, his heart rushing with glee as Skeppy’s foot fell outside the boundary lines.

He had won. 

Skeppy looked down too in amazement, before sheathing his sword and holding out his hand. “Good game?” he asked, nudging Bad. 

Bad’s eyes had drifted to the crowd that had gathered around their court, and they were brought back to Skeppy with a jolt. His face turned red, taking the hand in earnest. “Yeah, good game!” His heart jumped in victory, and his eyes wandered the arena again in awe at what just happened.

He had done it. He had won. 

Skeppy chuckled, grinning at Bad. “You did really well, I think that’s the most fun I’ve had since- well, ever.”

“Me too!” Bad said, smiling back. “You really shouldn’t talk during matches, though. It’s such bad sportmanship!” He shook his head playfully at Skeppy, giggling at the poke Skeppy gave in return.

“I thought it would distract you,” he moaned, and the two began to make their way back to the entrance. “And it did, at the start.” 

Bad rolled his eyes at Skeppy’s smirk, taking his prize from the kind attendant. He gave her a smile, before crossing his arms. “Yeah, and then you got kicked to the ground,” he bragged, giving Skeppy a look-over. “Twice.”

Skeppy giggled in return, and Bad’s insides felt warm and fuzzy, and he gave a softer smile as the two walked back to the village. They eventually reached a crossroads, with the two hugging before they parted.

“Are you coming to next month’s tournament?” Bad asked, grinning.

Skeppy scoffed, a smile creeping onto his face. “Of course I am, I have to take your title.”

The prize money in his bag rattling as he walked home, and his worries that morning about his father’s disapproval seemed childish. All he cared about was seeing Skeppy again, and watching his face light up as the two fought. 

A fond smile was on his face as he went home, and the dandelions seemed to giggle at him beside the path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i speedrun this chapter in like, an hour? mayhaps. would today's piece work better with tomorrow's prompt? mayhaps. ~~is it a week into fucking november? mayhaps~~
> 
> i neglected my academic responsibilities once again to write a chapter. i have like, three papers due next week. if i disappear, you know why.
> 
> also! i low-key wanna make a tumblr to like,,let people send asks. lemme know if that's something you'd wanna see! otherwise, i might like, join a mcyt writing discord, i'm pretty sure user 'qar' just opened one up.
> 
> lemme know your thoughts in the comments! <3


	26. techno+tommy fluff taichi // A sword proudly held up.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The most important thing is the breath,” Techno began, bending his knees. Tommy mirrored him, and Techno nudged his foot. “Raise your stance a little. Feet in.”
> 
> Tommy groaned, scrunching his nose. “When are we getting to the stabbing?”
> 
> -or-
> 
> Techno teaches Tommy Tai Chi

“The most important thing is the breath,” Techno began, bending his knees. Tommy mirrored him, and Techno nudged his foot. “Raise your stance a little. Feet in.”

Tommy groaned, scrunching his nose. “When are we getting to the stabbing?”

“When you stop whining,” Techno said. “Now we have to start over. Feet shoulder width apart, knees slightly bent- You asked for my help, I can just leave.”

“No- I’ll do it,” Tommy huffed, getting in his position. He kept glancing at Techno and adjusting the way he stood, until he stared back at the man, expecting. “We’re not just gonna stand here all day, are we?”

Techno shook his head. “No, here.” Raising his arms slowly, he moved them in a circular shape, before bringing them back down, palms facing the floor. “Deep breaths.”

Tommy watched and repeated the motions. “Like that?” he asked sardonically. 

“You’re going too fast.” Techno did it again, exaggerating his breath as he moved. 

Tommy rolled his eyes. “But it’s so boring,” he whined, bringing his arms up and letting them fall. “I asked you to teach me how to fight, not how to breath!”

“We’re not getting to the fun stuff until you do this,” Techno said, doing it again. “You’re on thin ice.”

Tommy huffed, closing his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he slowly brought his arms up and around in the circle, before bringing the palms away from him and to the floor. He opened his eyes. “That better?”

“Yeah,” Techno said. He went into a lunge on his left leg, his left arm reaching out, palm up. 

Tommy copied, moving more robotically. “Okay, now what?”

“You bring it back.” Techno brought his chest back, his body moving in a fluid motion to the original stance. His hand retreated too, bringing the palm to his chest. Tommy followed. “And then you do it on the right side.”

Tommy stuck his tongue out, moving more deliberately on the right side. “How is this supposed to be relaxing?” he muttered.

“You’re doing good,” Techno said. “Now you add the part before it.” He brought his right hand up, and in a ‘cutting’ motion moved it vertically on top of his left, before moving in the lunge like he had beforehand. 

Tommy’s eyes followed Techno’s hand as it moved until he blinked at Techno’s expecting look. He moved like Techno had, glancing at him every few moments, until he brought the hand palm down in the final motion. “Are we done yet?”

Techno stayed silent, before raising his arms up, and then down. “Final breaths, then we’ll put it all together.”

Moving with more fluidity, Tommy followed. “Okay, and then we’ll get to the stuff I asked you about?”

“Yeah,” Techno chuckled. “Last time.”

Together, they did the final motions. “There’s actual meanings behind this,” Techno said, moving slowly. “Like ‘accepting the rising sun’ and ‘extending your reach,’ but I don’t think you want to hear about them.”

“I really don’t,” Tommy said bluntly. “I’m imagining I’m stabbing someone and handing out the pieces.” 

Techno shook his head while he was reaching out, his left hand coming back to his chest. “Are they rejecting the pieces?” 

“Obviously,” Tommy said, repeating it for the right side. “Why else would we be taking them back?”

Techno brought his arms above his head. “True.”

They finished, and Tommy held his breath, shaking in excitement. “Are you going to teach me to fight now?”

“Yes,” Techno said, resigned to the loud shouts now echoing off the walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> flk;dsjlklk taichi: pog
> 
> am i proud of this?? no. was this work intended to get me to write?? yeah. ~~at this rate, are we gonna get to december before im finished. maybe-~~
> 
> warning to y'all: we're gonna have to wait until thanksgiving break to get anything remotely interesting. im in emotional distress over my three papers. i will write fluff for myself until then. i hope y'all enjoy
> 
> i joined qar's discord server and lemme tell you, it is very pog
> 
> ~~the dialogue-prose balance is off. i know. i also dont have the energy to edit this~~


	27. wilbur character study nov 16 // An unexplored forest.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hadn’t meant for this strange estrangement plot to carry on for so long. It was meant to be a fun little pretend revolution, a mock election. Silly uniforms, fake weapons, toy knives.
> 
> Wilbur didn’t expect to be kneeling on the ground after a painful three months in the wilderness, betraying a whole country. 
> 
> -or-
> 
> Wilbur's thought process (as a creator) when blowing up the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight tw // mentions of blood, swords

He was tired. 

He hadn’t meant for this strange estrangement plot to carry on for so long. It was meant to be a fun little pretend revolution, a mock election. Silly uniforms, fake weapons, toy knives.

Wilbur didn’t expect to be kneeling on the ground after a painful three months in the wilderness, betraying a whole country. Hell, he didn’t expect to still be playing along with the game they were playing, the roleplay he managed to drag the whole SMP into.

Whenever any of them wanted to plan something, they told him. If they wanted to have a fight, they’d ask him to stage it, come up with some plot-compliant reason it would happen. He hadn’t truly slept without someone waiting on him ever since his quill’s ink first hit the paper, and he signed his declaration. He was too busy striking a war as an infant country, hoping not to be awoken by a man in a white mask, or shivering in the musky and cold ravine.

Every time someone would inevitably call his name, he pretended for a moment that he could freeze them. That the world would stop, for a moment, and let him breathe. Maybe, if he concentrated hard enough—closed his eyes, felt the ache in his legs take over—the words coming out of their mouths would slowly fall to the floor. 

Maybe, they’d stop asking him to create.

They never did, of course, but it didn’t hurt to try. 

* * *

Techno offered to buy Wilbur dinner, and here he sat, listening to his rousing speech for their next session.

“And then- And then I’ll point a sword at his neck, and ask him- Wilbur, are you even listening?” 

“Wha- yeah, of course,” Wilbur chuckled, looking back at him.

“Good. I’ll ask him ‘do you think you’re a hero, Tommy?’ in this like, obnoxiously roleplaying voice,” Techno said, miming looking down holding a sword.

“Yeah?”

“He’ll say yes, obviously, and then I’ll shout: ‘then die like one!’” Techno charged his invisible blade into the table, looking at him for approval.

Wilbur laughed, for the first time in ages, and he listened patiently as Techno began to ramble about Greek heroes and monsters. Perhaps it wasn’t the best to listen to over dinner, but their plates were slowly clearing and Techno showed no signs of stopping. “Thesues came home a _loser,_ and the whole town, like, killed him or something. I don’t remember the specifics.”

“Oh, yeah, the most I remember is like Sisyphus.” Wilbur pushed his plate to the side, handing it off to the waitress, and ordered them both a round of drinks.

“The guy who cheated death?” Techno asked, fiddling with his robe. The chains made a noise whenever they rubbed against each other, which Wilbur tried to filter out.

“I guess?” He shrugged. “The only thing I remember is his punishment, rolling a stone up a hill forever.”

Techno gave a wince. “Yeah, I remember that dude. What a mood, am I right?”

“Yeah,” Wilbur said, looking away. There was no escaping _that._ “The only way to win and be free would be to stop trying.”

Techno hummed. “I mean, did he ever try breaking the rock?” He chuckled. 

It came to Wilbur, in that moment, how he could finally end it all. Go out with a bang, literally and metaphorically. “Yeah, the only escape would be to break the system,” he said, watching as the waiter set the beer onto the table.

Amidst the smell of alcohol came a plan in formation, half-listening as Techno’s voice droned on. When he began shouting and slamming his hand on the table, Wilbur struggled to calm him down, the entire tavern staring at him. 

Techno was right, the only way out was to destroy it all. No loose ends, nothing for him to inevitably tie-up; all of his work had to end this way for him to finally be free. He swirled the remaining liquid in his glass.

A feeling of joy was bubbling in his stomach as he regained control of his situation. In order to finally get rid of his work’s burden, he would have to get rid of it all. And didn’t that sense of destruction bring joy? He, alone, would be the master of the story again. He, alone, would finally finish his country, leave the storyline irreparable.

Wilbur, alone, would be free. 

* * *

“Will!” He could barely hear Phil over the explosion. “It’s all gone!”

There was a ringing in his ears, and the ground was still shaking. But, taking a breath, Wilbur realized Phil was right. It _was_ all gone: the land, the country, and, most importantly, the _stress._

There was a sea of broken and despondent faces, and from across the ruin, Wilbur could feel Tommy’s eyes on him. All he could do was smile, the weight on his shoulders finally relinquishing.

He had nothing left to do.

“Phil, kill me,” he whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek. 

“I- What?” Phil asked. His wings spread out, the feathers ruffled. 

Wilbur wondered what protection they could offer if he was the one holding the sword. “Phil!” 

“I can’t, you’re-” Phil smiled bittersweetly. “You’re my son,” he chuckled, his eyes glistening.

“Phil, kill me,” Wilbur said, raising his voice. “Kill me!” 

“No matter what you-” Wilbur stomped his foot, and a few rocks by the cliffside went tumbling. 

“Look!” Wilbur said, pointing at the craters and ruins of his country. “How much work went into this?” How many hours did he slave away, how much candlelight was wasted meticulously planning and organizing these events?

Phil stared back at him in shock, his eyes moving between the sword at his hands, Wilbur’s face, and the destruction that lay beside them.

“And I leveled it just the same,” he chuckled, a giddy rush of power coming over him. He brought the sword to his neck, grabbing Phil’s hand and shoving it around the hilt. “Do it.”

Phil made a grimace, and the small, vindictive part of himself felt satisfied. He pressed the blade against his skin, watching as Phil’s expression wilted. 

“You know you want to.”

Phil’s face slowly became resigned, the longer Wilbur kept eye contact and silently pleaded. He just wanted to be laid to rest.

A small trail of blood ran down his neck, the blade puncturing the skin. Distantly, he could hear sniffling, before his mind fell blank.

He closed his eyes, and, finally, slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all, it's been a hot minute! but!! i'm backkkkkkk and im ready to _finally_ finish this work off. thankgiving break pog!! lemme know your thoughts in the comments!! ~~also: ik i dont mention milestones but?? a thousand kudos?? what the actual fuck thank y'all so much~~
> 
> uhhh this took around an hour and a bit?? i guess? honestly wasn't keeping track of time, I was just happy to get back into the swing of writing. that being said, i have only to thank my youtube recommended, [ especially this great animatic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w7UDckQdvz8) to thank for that
> 
> fun trivia: i technically planned this out before the nov. 16th stream, like four days earlier. ~~because i am the author, it is, inevitably, a ventfic~~ as my brainstorm puts it: "wilbur struggles to separate himself from his work so he feels like he has to remove his work entirely to regain a sense of identity"
> 
> ~~yes, phil's name is different from literally every other time i've mentioned him. don't ask me why. it just fit better~~


	28. tommy+tubbo h/c trapped in a cave // Rain poured down.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo stared at the sky, small droplets peppering his cloak. “Oh,” he said, reaching out his hand. “Tommy? Maybe we should think about heading back to the castle.”
> 
> Tommy didn’t respond, and kept leading them deeper into the forest, shoving leaves and vines out of his path.
> 
> “I really think we should head back home,” Tubbo yelled, struggling to catch up.
> 
> “And I think we should stay in the forest.” Tommy glared at the ground, tugging Tubbo’s arm. “Come off it,” he said. “A little rain never hurt anyone.”

Tubbo stared at the sky, small droplets peppering his cloak. “Oh,” he said, reaching out his hand. “Tommy? Maybe we should think about heading back to the castle.”

Tommy didn’t respond, and kept leading them deeper into the forest, shoving leaves and vines out of his path.

“I really think we should head back home,” Tubbo yelled, struggling to catch up.

“And I think we should stay in the forest.” Tommy glared at the ground, tugging Tubbo’s arm. “Come off it,” he said. “A little rain never hurt anyone.”

Tubbo shifted his feet, and followed, eyes darting between the trees.

With rain came darkness, and with darkness came the monsters. Tubbo stamped down on the fear churning his stomach, feeling like a little kid afraid of the shadows. He’d never been in the jungle after sundown before. 

Tommy ventured on, and Tubbo winced every time his feet shook the floor, clutching the compass stubbornly pointing back at him.

They continued in silence, the slow trickle of rain turning into a downpour, and soon Tommy admitted they should start finding shelter. Tubbo wholeheartedly agreed, and eventually came across a cave overgrown with vines and greenery. Taking out his sword, Tommy sliced open the entrance, shooing Tubbo inside before sealing the hole with dirt behind them.

An awkward pause filled the space before Tubbo started rummaging through his bag and asked Tommy if he had any fuel. 

“This sucks,” Tubbo said unhelpfully, bringing out sticks and failing to make a campfire. He sighed. “I miss Techno, he’d know how to do this.”

“Well, I’m sorry he’s not here,” Tommy said bitterly. “I’m glad you like _my_ company.”

“Wha- That’s not what I meant!” Tubbo protested, and the wood sticks in his hands crashed down again. He stared at them in disappointment. “Are you going to stand there or are you going to help me?”

Tommy scoffed. “I’ll help, I’ll help.” With Tubbo holding the sticks in place, he struck the flint and steel, and he gave a small smile as it lit. 

Tubbo quickly tried to blow out the fire starting on his left sleeve, and Tommy chuckled a bit, before looking sheepish. He got out a sleeping bag from his backpack, laying it out on the floor, and shivered as a chill swept through the cave. 

Tubbo scooted closer to the flames, bringing his hands out in front of the fire, flipping them every few seconds. Tommy reluctantly joined him, dropping the bag haphazardly onto the floor.

“It’s going to be dark soon,” Tubbo said, staring at the boarded-up entrance and the clock on his wrist. “We’re going to have to wait out the night.”

Tommy scoffed, looking down. “Yeah,” he mumbled. 

“It’s okay.” Tubbo moved away from the fire and brought out a pair of cookies from his bag, along with some rations. “I packed food in my bag, just in case.”

“Thanks,” Tommy said, taking a bite. Tubbo did too, and although the bread was a bit stale, the two of them ate it, a pair of cookies, some lunchmeat, vegetables, and baked potatoes anyway.

When they were done, Tommy went to sulk in a corner, as Tubbo brought out a map to try and orient them. 

Tommy slinked over sometime later, and Tubbo brought the map between them, using his finger to estimate their path into the woods, and where they were now. After he was sure Tommy was properly paying attention, Tubbo looked him in the eye.

“Why did you want to go into the forest anyway?”

Tommy didn’t reply, and an awkward pause settled between them. “I was mad at my brothers,” he mumbled. 

“What?” Tubbo asked, the crackling fire drowning out Tommy’s whispers. “I didn’t catch that.” 

“I was mad with Techno and Phil and Wilbur!” Tommy shouted, the noise echoing across the cave walls. He hunched over as the stone shook, staring at the ground and fiddling with his fingers. “I led us into the forest because I felt like I had to prove something, that I could adventure like Techno and lead like Wilbur and-” he choked, looking at the fire. “And come home safe, like Phil.”

“Oh.” Tubbo put down the map and brought his arm over Tommy’s shoulder. 

“And now we’re trapped in some cave, miles away from the castle. Is that what you wanted to hear?” Tommy’s shoulders shook, and Tubbo noticed his eyes get red and puffy.

“You don’t have to prove anything,” Tubbo said matter-of-factly.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Not to _you,_ maybe.” His eyes were downcast. “My brothers are so cool and awesome and I’m just,” he paused. “Loud. Annoying.” 

“I don’t think you’re annoying.” Tubbo smiled, trying to reassure him. 

“I know _you_ don’t think that.” Tommy grimaced, and a small tear ran down his cheek. “But I wonder what the rest of the kingdom thinks.”

Tubbo said nothing and riffled through his bag, clutching the blanket and bringing it out. He handed it off to Tommy, still staring at the fire. 

“I wonder what Phil thinks of me,” Tommy whispered, bringing the blanket further around him. He started to cry, slowly, small hiccups making his chest rise and fall. As time went on, they came faster, and through a mix of tears, Tommy muttered, “Oh, he’ll be so mad when I get back.”

Tubbo tilted his head. “You don’t know that.” He brought out the compass again, pointing towards the cave entrance, and set up the map in front of the fire. Tommy sniffled. “If we wait out the storm, we can sneak back into the castle before they wake up.”

Tommy looked at the plans, and smiled slowly, looking at Tubbo before looking back down again. “Huh, I guess we can.” 

An awkward pause settled between them. Then, Tommy began to laugh, both a loud and small giggle as Tubbo joined him. Tubbo offered to go on watch as Tommy brought his sleeping bag closer to the fire, and he listened as Tommy’s breaths began to slow, and deepen.

He felt his own eyes struggle to stay open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this bad boy took sooooo long to write!! like 2 hours, at _least_
> 
> asldfjsl i have very little notes for this. the summary on my doc was 'two friends trapped in a cave forced to talk about their feelings? in _my_ fic? it's more likely than you think'
> 
> also: i updated the chapter/prompt lengths!! earlier on i combined some, and i just split them up into 'proper' chapters, so that the chapter # finally corresponds to the prompt number.


	29. tommy+bad s/o/l demon au // Digging through a chest.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His father pressed a button on the device, bringing up a video. Bad cringed as he realized who was on it. 
> 
> The demon prince on the device crackled, giggling as it twirled its tail. “You thought you could make an alliance with the demon realm?” it asked, snapping its fingers. “Get fucked.” The figure on the screen charged against an unseen enemy, a swarm of demons following behind it.
> 
> “You used to be so cool, BadBoyHalo,” Tommy said, grinning like a cat that got the canary. Bad squirmed in his seat. “What happened?”

Bad hated every moment of this.

His father stood at the other end of the table, chucking at the barrier binding them to their seats. He had removed his glamour, too, and the weight of the horns on his head and claws at his finger-tips made eating his father’s courtesy dinner both difficult and awkward.

Oh, and Tommy was here. Tommy—the obnoxious teenager he was neighbors with and was revealed to be the _other_ demon sent down to Earth five minutes ago—was having dinner with his father, the king of demons. His head similarly had a couple of small horns poking through.

“So, Tommy, how has the recent assignment been going?” the king asked, cutting his steak. It occurred to Bad that Tommy wouldn’t be on Earth for any other reason.

Tommy shrugged, fiddling with the tablecloth. “It’s been fine. Torturing humans, inconveniencing them, well, you know how it is.”

“I actually don’t,” Bad’s father laughed, slapping Tommy on the back as he awkwardly choked. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Tommy tilted his head. “Not knowing how to torture people?” he asked. “Sir.”

“No,” the king said, displeased. “A promotion. If you keep up the good work, I can get you a better job right down here. No need to interact with humans.” Bad could hear the disdain in his father’s voice when he mentioned humans, and he glared at the floor.

He took a deep breath. Bad had made a promise to his father, once. His father would let him live unsupervised in the mortal world, and, in exchange, he’d have dinner with him twice a year. It was pretty fair, save for the special guest they had this time.

Tommy looked unimpressed. “What if I like my current assignment?” he asked. 

“I might have something that could persuade you,” the king purred, snapping his fingers as a tablet materialized. “The higher-up in my company you are, the more power there is.”

“Really?” Tommy’s tail began to swish back and forth. 

“Bad would know all about power, wouldn’t you?” the king asked. 

Bad crossed his arms in reply, staying silent.

His father pressed a button on the device, bringing up a video. Bad cringed as he realized who was on it. 

The demon prince on the device crackled, giggling as it twirled its tail. “You thought you could make an alliance with the demon realm?” it asked, snapping its fingers. “Get _fucked.”_ The figure on the screen charged against an unseen enemy, a swarm of demons following behind it.

“You used to be so cool, BadBoyHalo,” Tommy said, grinning like a cat that got the canary. Bad squirmed in his seat. “What happened?”

Bad closed his eyes as the hologram began shifting, panning the camera towards an animal sanctuary as fires started throughout the complex. Tommy’s eyes widened with quickly fading excitement as red stains went across the lens, a bloodbath happening on screen.

A small, insignificant, part of Bad felt spiteful. 

Tommy stared back at Bad with shock and quickly shut his mouth, his eyes staring at the floor too. The king frowned at Tommy, shutting the device off. “That did not have the intended effect.”

“No shit,” Tommy said, glaring at him. “Nice going.”

Bad felt smug as Tommy ranted to the king, talking about his loyalty and his friends and humanity. For all the ~~shit~~ flack and spite Tommy gave him, Bad knew the kid’s heart was in the right place. He wouldn’t have given into the king’s demands, no matter the consequences.

“I like being on Earth, anyway.” Tommy shoved his hands into his pockets. “No video would’ve changed my mind.”

The king dismissed them soon after, and Bad watched as Tommy’s posture straightened, and he felt an invisible weight come off both their shoulders.

The blue forest surrounding them became more tranquil as the castle walls fell out of view. Together, they walked the path back to the rooftop, to the small trapdoor separating their worlds.

“This may sound rude, but-” Tommy awkwardly shuffled his feet- “Why don’t you swear anymore?”

Bad chuckled at Tommy’s nervousness. Never in his life had he seen Tommy so apprehensive. “Because I choose not to.”

“Oh,” Tommy said, staring at the ground. “Why?”

“It’s,” Bad started, looking around. Slowly they were making their way to the ladder. “It’s like a promise. To myself, to my friends, to humanity.” 

Tommy tried to look like he was paying attention, straightening his posture and watching Bad’s movements. “What’s the promise for?”

“To _not_ be some crummy demon prince,” Bad said, pausing as they came to the base of the ladder. “C’mon, let’s just go home.”

Tommy followed his lead, and the two began climbing up the ladder rungs, leaving the smokey air of the nether world behind them.

* * *

It was never about the words, really.

It was a promise about _trust,_ reliability. The prince was someone unpredictable, his only allegiance was to himself. He had been a ~~shitty~~ irresponsible and deceitful ruler, and Bad’s constant ‘language’ every time one of his friends swore was a way of making himself predictable. The same was true regarding not saying ‘unsavory’ words at all. It was a promise to his friends: that they could trust in their intuition, and that he would be a reliable pillar in an unpredictable world.

He, millennia ago, would have never made that vow. He would have spat in the other person’s face, cackling about demons and power and the throne. 

Today, it was just another mark of separation between his past and his present. Former Bad would have ~~said ’fuck you’~~ stared with similar disbelief at Bad’s love for humanity. Current Bad laughed in his face, telling him ‘just you wait.

‘You’ll come around, eventually.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the only 'digging' in this chapter is me trying to find context for the summary. 
> 
> this took. so long. (1.5 hours? 2 hours?) the words did not want to go. its unedited. im praying its not too shitty but,,,with grammarly as my beta, we'll see. 
> 
> this scene was entirely inspired by that one scene in she-ra where big-bad hordak shows glimmer what's happening back home on etheria (you do not need to watch it). i struggled to find a context for this scene bc all i could envision was like,,,,space dudes. and that, obviously, didnt fit
> 
> also: the context? well. i've had this idea in my head for a while about like an 'a group of angels gets sent down to earth and watch over civilians except none of them know the others are angels and they all end up befriending each other. and then they reveal themselves and all of them are angels except for the sweetheart, who's a demon' but with the smp and tommy's also a demon. you may ask, 'what about the role reversal so prevalent with bad being a demon?' and i respond: this makes bad and tommy co-workers. adk;fjs that dynamic?? between bad and tommy? will never not be funny bye
> 
> ~~lemme know ur thoughts in the comments!~~


	30. tommy+tubbo arguing // Racing across the plains.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I finally understand why you guys shoved the presidency onto me," Tubbo says, fiddling with his suit. It barely fits him properly, and instead the weight of the ~~crown~~ title breaths heavy down his shoulders. "It was never about the 'greater good' of L'manburg."
> 
> "Wha-" Tommy sputters, staring incredulously. "I told you, I have unfinished business, made a speech on the podium and everything."
> 
> "It was never about power. It was never about the presidency either, was it?” Tubbo’s fist is trembling, and he continues. “It was about you finally having to take some responsibility for all the _shit_ you cause around the server."

They exit the meeting the same way they came, walking together on that wooden path. Something’s changed, though, and neither party looks happy to be there.

So far removed from the two bubbly expressions that morning.

"I finally understand why you guys shoved the presidency onto me," Tubbo says, fiddling with his suit. It barely fits him properly, and instead the weight of the ~~crown~~ title breaths heavy down his shoulders. "It was never about the 'greater good' of L'manburg."

"Wha-" Tommy sputters, staring incredulously. "I told you, I have unfinished business, made a speech on the podium and everything."

"No." Tubbo stares him down, and Tommy drops the coin he's toying with to the ground. "I can see through you, y'know. We've only been best friends for what, a couple years now?" 

Tommy crosses his arms. "Yeah, you're doing a real good job of showing it."

"It was never about power. It was never about the presidency either, was it?” Tubbo’s fist is trembling, and he continues. “It was about you finally having to take some responsibility for all the _shit_ you cause around the server."

"That's not true-"

Tubbo stamps his foot. "After our independence, you fought with Sapnap relentlessly, burning down his tower and stealing his fish. After the election, you lead a fake revolution against Schlatt, before handing off the podium to _me._ " His eyes narrow. "What happens after you get your discs back?"

"What do you mean-" Tommy says in a rush, words slurring together.

"Will you _finally_ take responsibility of rebuilding?" Tubbo's eyes narrow. "Or are you going to keep causing war after another on the SMP, and doing _nothing_ to fix it?” His eyes are watering now; he pushes back the snot in his voice. “How many crater holes has Puffy filled in? She's been here _one day_ and is already doing more than you _ever_ have!"

Tommy went quiet, tears building in his eyes. 

"Wait, I didn't mean all of that-" Tubbo starts, the weight of his words hitting him. "I'm not _that_ mad at you, I promise-"

"I think you made it pretty clear what you thought," Tommy says, his figure motionless. "I laid down my life for this land, not once, but _twice,_ and all you can do is tell me to _take some responsibility?_ "

Tubbo stays silent, shuffling his feet. "Yeah. I guess it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bro i really _speedran_ this chapter huh,,,, (this was like,,,,30 minutes. editted. h o w )
> 
> have i watched the primary sources for recent canon? no. was this entirely inspired by something like_the_letter wrote on the 'qar' discord server? yea.
> 
> am i proud of it? _hell yeah_
> 
> shorter update for today, but,,,one more day. _then_ i can start writing other things!!


	31. tommy angst/introspection insomnia // Make it to sunrise.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He feels oddly hopeless in the moment, wondering whether it would be worth it to go to school today. Go to bed, wake up the next morning. Whether the cycle would finally end. It’s a more contemplative tone than suicidal, but he still questions why.
> 
> It keeps him distracted.
> 
> Sunlight peaks through the window shades, and Tommy realizes with a jolt how little sleep he’s gotten tonight.
> 
> The birds start waking up, small twitters that break out into chirps and songs. Daybreak brings life that the empty night never did.

Tommy lies in bed, the blanket heavy on him.

For some reason, he can’t seem to go to sleep. When his eyes are closed there’s a restless energy behind them, something that never touched his spirit while he was awake. When they’re open, they fixate vaguely on the ceiling, the paint blurring in and out of focus.

The clock on his bedside keeps teasing him, counting every moment as the night slips through his fingers. Every minute that passes is a minute of sleep wasted, as he lies here and wonders why he can’t seem to fall under.

Tommy’s bed is rather comfortable, and yet his body seems to just lie on the surface, never sinking into the mattress. His pillow is lukewarm, with hair sticking to it, and he wonders how messy he’ll look in the morning.

His heartbeat is slow, too, but the moment he thinks about it its pace rushes, and soon it feels like it’s lifting the blanket and that Tommy’s going to wake up the whole house.

He doesn’t, of course, but tell his anxiety that.

Absentmindedly, he thinks of all the missed coursework he has, and how maybe, if he reached out, he could snatch his laptop off of his desk. His mind is foggy, sure, but maybe he could put himself to _some_ use, instead of just lying here aimlessly. 

His phone is on the charger, and he picks it up. The screen is harsh and bright, and with a grumble he puts it back down, the room getting somehow darker in the absence of light. He can’t pick out his dresser and closet from the shadows like he could a moment ago. Something about that unsettles him.

He eventually closes his eyes, and his heart rests once more as he feels himself slip, and he congratulates himself on finally succeeding.

The clock taunts him, reading 12:39 AM.

* * *

He wakes up to a dark room. Glancing at the clock, he realizes five hours have passed.

Well, four hours and a bit. He still feels a little disoriented, and wonders how his body never wakes up like this when it’s seven, and he has to go to school. Waking up naturally never felt so tiring.

His room looks exactly the same, like no time has passed, and he entertains the thought that maybe, he didn’t go to sleep at all.

The clock tells him otherwise.

He rubs at his eyes, saliva coating his mouth. A feeling in his stomach tells him he has to use the restroom, and he sits up and out of bed. 

His slippers are on the floor, and he gets into them and softly moves towards the door, careful not to wake the rest of the house. He uses the restroom, then discreetly fills himself a glass of water. His body feels more parched than it did in bed. After getting a second glass, he heads back to his room, his shoes making quiet squeaks as he goes.

Tommy hops back into bed and pulls the blanket over himself. It’s still warm, surprisingly, and he snuggles back under the covers. If he had cocoa, he’d drink it; if his brothers were awake, he’d invite them over.

He feels oddly hopeless in the moment, wondering whether it would be worth it to go to school today. Go to bed, wake up the next morning. Whether the cycle would finally end. It’s a more contemplative tone than suicidal, but he still questions why.

It keeps him distracted.

Sunlight peaks through the window shades, and Tommy realizes with a jolt how little sleep he’s gotten tonight.

The birds start waking up, small twitters that break out into chirps and songs. Daybreak brings life that the empty night never did.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Tommy breaks out into a smile. It’s a simple thing, really, but the joy sparks more joy. Everything’s _alive_ outside, and he pokes his fingers through the window shades to watch as the sunrise colors the sky.

Maybe today _was_ worth it, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: writing this entirely in past-tense third person (save for the two horror ones and the gc one i guess??)
> 
> the last two: bet. _bet_
> 
> this starts and ends with a piece w/o dialogue. lol im glad i managed to squeeze dialogue into all but like,,five of them. dunno what that says about me as a writer.
> 
> i _will_ be releasing a 32nd chapter to this, as like a wrap-up/closing thoughts on all of these individual prompt-fills, and perhaps a ranking of them? maybe? idk. scream at me in the comments if there's any particular behind-the-scenes you'd want to know about these. i also have a google sheet with data re: kudos and hits over time. might take a screenshot of _that_ graph and we can analyze it together :]
> 
> ao3 doesnt give me names, but i know there are ~150 of you loyally subscribed to this (which is wild!! holy shit!!) thanks for the ride, and i hope you enjoy the closing behind-the-scenes chapter to this before i start posting more individual oneshots! thanks for all your comments and support!! they really do mean the world to me, and make me so happy every time i read them <3 <3


	32. A review of all of them! :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fated 32nd chapter.

I’ll be completely honest this is my first like meta-chapter and talking to you guys outside of the notes so..here I go! I’ll be doing a rating out of ten for each of them, then explaining my reasoning shortly in the tagline next to them. I did a post-chapter review of them explaining how I thought I could improve immediately  _ after _ writing, too, so I’ll reference that as well :]  Yes this is like. three weeks later. shush. life happens. we will Not Mention It.

1: (3/10) uhh at the time of writing this i liked the soulmate concept, didn’t like the execution as much. The lack of dialogue makes it pretty boring to read for me, but it was a good start! I esp. liked the poetic lines throughout about symbolism and jar imagery, so. Not too shabby. I think the comment I wrote talked about varying sentence length and how they liked the word choice which. I do not disagree with

2: (5/10) it’s a cute scene w  _ fairly _ in character action and dialogue? I think my writing improves as I’m writing this, and the descriptions could be better executed. The comment talks about there being no real conflict, and while that’s true, I also think it’s pretty cute. Overall, not too bad

3: (6/10) it’s long!! we stan!! My comment talked about how they liked the conflict and resolution, but lamented at how the pacing got towards the end. I’d say I agreed, the concept and exploration wasn’t bad, but the writing and pacing could’ve used some work. 

4: (6/10) superhero au!! I loved the concept for this one, and it was my first time writing something vaguely action-y! I think I could’ve made the actions more realistic with the characters, and even the dialogue a little too but, overall. I think it’s okay. The comment mentioned working on the dialogue-prose balance, which I agree with, and how it could’ve been stretched out better pacing wise. I don’t disagree

5: (7/10) this one has a soft spot in my heart, i love the worldbuilding of a fantasy au and the little hints sprinkled throughout. overall, i probably could’ve paced it better, adding some more interactions in the middle and building up more to the angsty ending. The comment mentioned paragraph and structure repetition which I agree with, but I liked the idea of this and the snippets descriptions throughout

6: (7/10) horror!! I liked writing this one more than I thought I would, and despite its length I liked the metaphors used and the prose. second-person makes me ick a little but for horror i find it oddly necessary. The comment mentioned how the length of it makes it difficult to ease the reader into which, is not untrue, but still, I liked it.

7: (6/10) I loved the idea of this and the building of suspense and dialogue were things that jumped out to me! A problem with a lot of these is how it puts the reader  _ straight _ into the story, which for this, especially, doesn’t give a lot of context. I also probably could’ve elaborated more on the original concept of tubbo’s morality getting corrupted, but I liked the descriptions and the building of suspense. Not too bad.

8: (5/10) The early scene description was executed somewhat poorly, there’s a lot of exposition that could’ve been relayed better. Despite this, I really liked the cute ending scene and the dialogue between them felt more realistic than the previous skephalo (?) chapter. I got more comments than I thought about keeping their relationship platonic as an aroace, but. Yeah <3

9: (6/10) i liked the idea but it could’ve been explored better. lol i think i found the beginning texts funnier than the readers, but that’s okay. you live and you learn. i think in general i could’ve added more description of scenes and paced it out a bit better. still liked the quiet moment, though! the comment mentioned dialogue feeling stiff which I definitely agree with

10+11: (7/10) i love the au for this and the idea of it!! getting my head back into ‘volleyball mode’ was really fun and i enjoyed coming up with the nooks and crannies of the volleyball au, the characters and what positions they corresponded to, the way the game functioned, etc. Bit of problems with grammar and pacing (a running theme) but overall, I liked the idea and exploration a lot!

12: (6/10) cute idea, cute execution, only problem is that it’s a bit short and the dialogue could be more ‘in character.’ then again, this was purely self-indulgence, so. I dunno how much that mattered while writing it

13: (7/10) the dialogue felt somewhat in-character, or at least the characterization stayed consistent. While writing skeppy and bbh I often struggle with conveying their ‘teasing’ as a love language/a lovable gesture, bc if someone did it to me i’d just find it annoying lmao. the soft moment of realization is cute but the sentence structure and word choice could definitely be cleaned up.

14: (5/10) i liked the idea of this and the running themes, but overall the pacing and execution got a bit wonky. the sentences and word choice could be cleaned up, but what the scene represents and this complex idea of returning to the past means I don’t feel like I can score it too low.

15: (6/10) the writing on this is okay and pretty well edited, but as a wing!au goes i feel like it didn’t explore the idea enough, and there wasn’t much resolution to the conflict. i also got a couple of confused commenters, which shows the lack of clarity that prevented it from being scored higher.

16: (6/10) the idea and characters were pretty okay, and i felt like the tension and conflict in the action wasn’t the best executed. the word choice and repetition could’ve been edited better too, and it was my first try at writing action. It’s always good to try and write what you’re inexperienced at, it’s the only way you’ll get better! Part of that is learning from what you can improve on, though, and this scene is rife with that.

17: (4/10) I don’t really like the idea that much, and Wilbur’s reflections definitely could’ve been better executed. The plain song lyrics didn’t format well with the internal musings, to me, and overall it was too short to have much of an impact imo

18: (6/10) asldkfjadsfl after watching the animatic inspired by this i’d say they executed the idea better, but still. i liked the way the poetic lyrics intertwined and it felt structurally sound. could’ve been revised better, but still. not bad

19: (7/10) ooooh i really liked this one, the descriptions and everything made me feel oddly proud considering my inexperience with the genre. the pacing is a bit wonky and the progression in the bit feels lackluster, i probably could’ve structured the piece better. but! lasdkjf;s that’s a problem i continue to work on, so, not bad :D

20: (6/10) in a similar vein to 13, the idea and execution is pretty cute, but the word choice and repetition could be cleaned up a bit. overall, not terrible.

21: (7/10) i started to learn more about the use of body language in this, and i think description and word choice wise it’s pretty good. it doesn’t suffer from pacing problems as much as i think, just because they’re only little snapshots, but still. not bad. i liked the idea and exploration a lot, characters being secretly bamf is a self-indulgent favorite trope of mine 

22: (7/10) i liked the humor in this one, although writing it was half a lot of fun and half a pure mess of me trying my hand at a genre i already don’t read much of ahaha. i think it turned out okay? and i definitely got a lot of the ‘chatfic’ out of me, the author’s note i wrote was pretty salty lmao but overall, not too bad.

23: (7/10) universe swap bby!! i’m proud of the action and the descriptions, and the length made the pacing not  _ as _ wonky as it could’ve been. however, it suffers from a similar lack of polish on word choice and the dialogue at the end runs dry. ranked a little higher than it should be just bc of how much i love the trope :))

24: (8/10) same trope different characters!! i liked the slow building reveal, and the confusion techno feels followed by a (imo) in-character reactions+body language. the dialogue feels a little off and the prose could definitely use some polish, but overall pretty okay. it’s also like over 2k words so,,,pog

25: (8/10) i’m actually pretty proud of the prose and dialogue in this one, the introductory internal conflict followed by the cute action scene felt pretty nice pacing-wise. the word choice and structure could use some editing, but overall, pretty good

26: (5/10) this one feels more like the earlier ones, the dialogue-prose balance and pacing is a bit off, but it structurally feels in character. the idea could use more exploration

27: (8/10) i love the character study aspect of this and the ‘take’ on wilbur’s character, and how it’s shown through the scene with techno and with phil. idk. i just think it’s neat

28: (7/10) the idea and execution was pretty okay, it suffers from the pacing problems from earlier on. ajsdflk i like the dialogue and the action, ig

29: (6/10) idea and exploration are pretty cool, but tonally it shifts around a  _ lot _ and there’s no underlying tension. i like the tommy bbh interactions though, they have a special place in my heart

30: (8/10) the argument!! the dialogue!! i feel like i properly explored tubbo’s argument considering how filled this fandom is of tommy apologists (/lh_) and the dialogue felt like a natural progression. the only problem i have with it is how short it is, but yeah. probably one of my favorites from here

31: (9/10) i like the prose and the poetic tone, and the description felt realistic to my experiences. the lack of dialogue might make it feel ‘boring,’ but it’s also one of my favorites from here

Overall reflection from this: I loved working on these and I think every ‘day’ I got to learn something to improve from and a different writing mechanic to focus on. Recently I’ve begun to work more on my editing and structural/formatting, but this challenge really helped me sort out how I like writing and what I like writing, and I really miss the opportunity to just go ham and write whatever. It taught me a lot and I’d recommend this type of writing challenge to any writer. It really got me to explore my comfort zone, learn how to write just a lot of words and let the words flow, and set me up well to learn skills about revision and editing. You gotta start somewhere <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’ve made it to the end, thanks! I’ve posted like, three new works since this one, and I hope some of you have read and enjoyed them! 
> 
> took me around an hour and a bit. reflecting on your own work is difficult as shit lmao. hope y'all found this helpful, or useful? i try to be transparent about my writing process and i hope this sheds more light on my reflections on my past writing and how i try to move forward. this is unedited lmao save for spell-check, and it's shown through how many lowercase sentences there are and stuff
> 
> you all have been such an incredibly supportive community and i'm grateful for everyone one of you that's left a comment, clicked 'kudos,' or even just read through what i've written. i appreciate it a lot and can't wait for what's to come in the new year <3 <3


End file.
